Say Goodbye
by KiwiStar
Summary: They were best friends, and he had been there for her through everything. The fact that she had six months left to live didn't change that. He would keep his promise and stay with her until the moment came where she had to say goodbye. And he would make sure that when that moment came, she'd say goodbye, having had the time of her life. Daniel Bryan/ OC
1. Prologue

**I know, I shouldn't be starting a new fic, but I couldn't help myself, okay? I only own Andrea Mitchell, who is a product of my nephew's and my creativity. He helped me a lot with this fic, so kudos to you, man. I apologize for spelling and grammar mistakes, and I fair warn you that this fic will have a death in it, obviously, but it will. And I've already gotten a bit emotional planning this out and thinking about it. **

**Anywho, this prologue is short. Hey, it is a prologue, so I leave you now, for you to read and review.**

**Please read, review, and enjoy.**

**You're awesome,**

**Kiwi**

**Full Summary:**

**They were best friends, and he had been there for her through everything. The fact that she had six months left to live didn't change that. He would keep his promise and stay with her until the moment came where she had to say goodbye. And he would make sure that when that moment came she'd say goodbye, having had the time of her life.**

* * *

**Say Goodbye**

**Prologue**

* * *

Thirty was far too young to die. Thirty was a third of a lifetime, there wasn't any reasonable explanation for someone to die that young. People died all the time though, age didn't seem to matter. He tried not to think about it, about what was next if this really was the end.

"It's not," he murmured, wringing his hands together as he stared at the clock on the wall. The stale, chemical smell infiltrated his nose and he remembered exactly why he hated hospitals so much. Yet, every time she had an appointment, he was there with her. This was exactly that; just another appointment and she would come skipping out of that room with a grin plastered to her face, overjoyed that she had at least another year or more left.

Another year, he scoffed as he shook his head. Even if she did have more time, she would still die young. Still, he sat with his hand folded together, trying to keep himself occupied until the blonde came out. As much as he told himself that she would be fine, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong; horribly wrong. About a month ago, the treatments stopped working, and that was simply the first domino. It started with resistance to treatment, and it would escalate into symptoms, pain, and eventually death.

Andrea Mitchell was going to die young, and he wouldn't be able to stop it. His eyes snapped shut, and he tried to stay positive. Deciding he couldn't stay still, he took to pacing and periodically stealing a glance at his watch. She had been in there for over half an hour. Something had to be wrong, and he regretted not taking her up on her offer to have him join her. He chalked it up to being afraid of what he'd hear. "She'll be fine," he muttered, the small reassurance doing nothing to calm his worries. He knew how sick Andrea was, how sick she had been for a long time, and her disease almost promised an early grave.

Nobody deserved to die from disease. Nobody really deserved to die. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he had been watching her die for the last few years. Hope that the treatments would work dwindled as her condition didn't improve, despite the fact that doctors assured him that improvement would take time. That time for improvement was up, and every time he told himself that she would be fine, reality shot him down.

He couldn't find anyone to blame, it was a series of misfortune, of little things that couldn't be helped or changed. It was unfortunate to have an HIV positive parent, it was unfortunate to contract the disease through the pregnancy and come into this world with the possibility of dying before really living, and it was unfortunate, but inevitable, for the virus to morph into this. The door opened, and his head snapped to face her.

And that's when he knew for sure.

She took in a shaky breath, dragged her hand through her hair and gave him a weak smile. Andrea took a few steps forward, letting her hand rest on his forearm. "I'm okay, Bryan."

"How long?" He asked, biting the inside of his lip, struggling to maintain his composure. She murmured, and he shook his head again, pulling her into his arms. The words were sinking in, the look in her eyes revealing what her words wouldn't.

"Six months."


	2. July

**Howdy, it's Kiwi with another chapter of Say Goodbye. I only own Andrea, and a couple of mild characters further down the road. You'll know them when you see them. I apologize for any spelling/grammar errors and I think I should get a few things out of the way first.  
**

**One: This story will be short, about 7-10 chapters. I'll post one chapter when I'm finished with the next, so that's how that's going to go down...unless I decide I absolutely need to update, but yeah.**

**Two: The story is in snippets, as you'll see, and goes with the date an important event happened, the most important of her six-months**

**Three: Not sure if there is a three, there might be... oh yes, each chapter will feature a lyrics that fits the feel, theme, or element of the chapter.**

**Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed thus far, you guys are brilliant and amazing, and I love hearing your feedback. :)**

**So please enjoy the chapter, read, and review. :D**

**Ciao,**

**Kiwi**

**P.S. I don't own the lyrics either. They belong to their respective bands/artists**

* * *

**Say Goodbye**

**Chapter One: July**

* * *

**If I lay here/ ****If I just lay here/ ****Would you lie with me/ ****And just forget the world?**

**Look at the stars/ Look how they shine for you/ And everything you do**

* * *

** July 6th, 2012: The Bucket List**

"Bryan, what are you doing here?" Andrea looked over her shoulder, panicking as she threw her arm over the piece of paper she had been writing on, hoping to block his view. Nonchalant, he had barged into her office, went straight for the calendar and crossed off July 1st with a large, crimson _x_. She repeated her question as he plopped himself down in the armchair in the corner. "Well?"

"What'cha writing?" He ignored her question, standing again and striding over to meet her. "Huh?" Bryan peered over her shoulder, catching the words printed neatly across the top. "A bucket list, eh?" She could feel his laugh on her shoulder, and annoyed, she rolled her eyes.

"Yes," she confirmed. "I'm not being serious though."

"Hey, I wasn't laughing at you," he told her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "I really wasn't. It's alright to have a bucket list."

Andrea shrugged, crumpling the paper up into a ball and tossing it into the waste bin. "It was ridiculous, anyway."

/

Bryan sighed as he took a seat. Vincent Kennedy McMahon glanced at him over the top of his glasses and returned his gaze to the paper in front of him. His face dissolved into shock, and his jaw dropped slightly as he read over the page. An eyebrow rose, and he clicked his tongue. "You do realize we had a push set up for you, right?"

"Yes, sir," he replied. Word had traveled throughout the company, and it felt like everyone knew of her situation, aside from Vince, it seemed.

"And you need six months off?"

"Give or take," he stated, his hand slipping into his pocket. He ran his thumb over the folded piece of notebook paper, her list of things to do. The idea burst into his mind the moment he rummaged through her trash and stole it from the garbage can. This was what she wanted to do before she died, and he'd be damned before he denied her her final wishes.

Vince leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "Every ounce of me is telling me not to do this, that we absolutely need you here—."

"If you don't allow it, I'll just resign."

"Mr. Danielson, it would be far more helpful if you would let me finish. Every ounce of me is telling me I shouldn't sign off on this," he tapped the desk with his pen as he spoke, " and Creative, as well as a lot of other people, are going to be pissed. However, you're free to go until the end of January." His wrist flicked, and before Bryan knew it, the paper had been filed away and Mr. McMahon was reaching out. He shook his hand firmly.

"Thank you, Mr. McMahon. You have no idea what this means to me."

Vince gave a solemn nod, his hand coming to rest on Bryan's shoulder. Sympathy flashed in his eyes. "Give Andrea our condolences." Bryan nodded, turned and was halfway out the door when Vince called his name again.

"Yeah, Vince?"

"I'm sorry."

/

Later that night, he approached her house, her list still in his pocket. Retrieving the extra key from its secret hiding spot, he whistled to himself as he entered. Shutting the door behind him, he continued the tune, searching the house for his friend. "Andie?"

He found her on the roof, sitting and staring at the moon with her legs drawn close to her body. Bryan sat beside her, slightly smirking as he held the paper out to her. "Your list, madam." She took it, biting her lip with a slight smile.

"You dug through my trash?"

Bryan shrugged, "It was worth it." Andrea chuckled, shook her head and pulled her legs closer to her body, hugging them to her chest. He waited for a moment, pondering if she had picked up that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. She turned her head, eyebrow cocked.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a plane?"

"Yeah," he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows and he ran a hand over his head. Bryan rubbed his chin, muttering that she wasn't going to be too happy with him. "Yeah, but now I'm on your roof." He gestured around. A moth fluttered by, a slight breeze rustled leaves, and she stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. "I took some time off, Andie."

"It's because I'm dying, isn't it?"

"I want to make these the best six months of your life, Andrea," his hand found hers, and the smile she reflected back at him seemed to lack some of the luster it usually cast. "So, we're finishing that list." He gave a laugh at her bewildered face, the shock that made her look that much more innocent and the twinkle in her eye that reminded him of stars. "I took a peek, and I think I know where to start."

"Oh really?" Her eyebrow rose again, another small smile gracing her features as he handed her two slips of paper.

"How does a concert sound?"

* * *

**July 15th, 2012: _Attend a Concert_**

"Oh, carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more!" Andrea sang, twirling herself around a light pole as her voice carried on through the night. He laughed, standing with his hands in his jacket pockets. Bryan smiled as she skipped away from him, singing more of the song.

"If some guy tries to kidnap you, I'm not coming after you!" Bryan shouted, grinning as she stuck her tongue out at him. Then, she returned and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close to her. "Thank you, Bryan, for the tickets." His hands settled on her waist. Pulling away, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Bryan nodded as he lead her to a cafe, opening the door for her. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "I always knew you were so chivalrous, Bry," Andrea winked, sliding into a booth in the corner. After they had gotten their drinks, she spoke up again. "Seriously, Bry... thank you. This means a lot to me, I don't even know if I can describe it." She held her cup of hot chocolate, taking a sip before pushing her hair back from her face. It fell forward again, vicious strawberry blonde curls framing her face. "I'm starting to think you're the best thing in my life right now." Twirling the spoon around, she watched as the whipped cream swirled and broke down. Peering back up at him, the corners of her lips turned upward.

Bryan didn't say anything, just gave a small shrug. Raising his mug, he grinned. "Cheers."

"To?"

He shrugged again. "To the best six months of our lives." Andrea laughed, nodding in agreement as she clinked her mug with his.

"Cheers."

* * *

** July 20th, 2012: _Go Camping_**

_Smack!_

Bryan groaned, hands flying up to protect his face as his assailant struck him again. "What are you doing?" He grumbled, grabbing a corner of his blanket to pull it over his face. The pillow thumped against his side this time, then his head and he curled up in futile attempts to block her vantage points. "It's four in the frickin' morning." Bryan muttered under his breath, rolling over to bury his face in his pillow.

"The day waits for no one, Bryan."

"And that gives you the right to thump me with a pillow?" He imagined her shrugging, for he was far too cautious to look. Her footsteps traveled around the bed, and the sound of rustling blinds were unmistakeable. Then, his pillow slid from under his head and he cursed. "Andrea Sophia..."

"I stopped being afraid of my full name when I was fifteen," Andrea stated, hands planted on her hips. Her eyes flashed with light as an idea drifted into her mind. She grabbed the edge of the blanket. Giving it a sharp tug, she quickly discarded it, rolling it up into a ball and tossing it to the side with a small pile of pillowed. "I didn't know you slept shirtless." Grumbling, he pulled himself up to rest on his elbows and surveyed the area around him. The sun was rising, striking her hair and falling on the floor.

"You completely destroyed my room."

"Get up faster next time," she replied, as if it were obvious. "Now, I'm going to finish packing, and if you're not dressed by the time I get back I will..."

"Will what?" He taunted. "You can't touch the best in the world," he yawned, reaching for the pillow. Groaning, and deciding it was too far away, he flopped himself over the rest of the bed. He heard her steps retreating and he smiled to himself. He would get up, eventually. And he would spend the day as she wished, in the middle of the woods, amidst trees, petulant insects, and the comfortable silence of solitude.

Two or more days alone with her were more than welcome.

/

"Andrea," he tried not to whine as he caught his breath, leaning against a tree, "we've been hiking for a long time now." He gestured to the wide open space to his left. "Where's the campsite?"

"I told you it was a hike," she shrugged, taking a drink of water. "But look at how beautiful it is out here!" She swept her arms out, twirling around with a grin. Bryan smiled, watching her.

"Sure is." He straightened up, rolling his neck as he shielded his face from the sun. "Alright, Mitchell, let's get this show on the road."

Another hour of hiking later brought them to an open area with a fire pit, a small grill, and a bench over an expanse of dirt. Slightly forward and down a hill was a lake, and he could see it through the openings in the trees. She had told him the hike was worth it, that her family had been coming to this spot for years, and he believed it now. He shrugged his pack off, setting it beside a log as she repositioned them around the fire pit. Andrea wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and turned to look at him.

"You, uh," he stifled his laughter, "have a little something-something on your face."

"What?" She wiped her forehead again, making the smidge of dirt worse. At his laughter, she caught her reflection in his sunglasses and her eyebrows furrowed together. "Oh, you're hilarious."

His eyebrow rose, "Well... not to brag or anything." He was met with her hand smearing dirt on his own forehead. "You got dirt on my face."

"Don't be such a girl about it," her comment was frank and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I swear you act like a girl more than I do, sometimes."

His eyebrow cocked, and he waited for her to add anything else. When she didn't, he cracked his knuckles. "Really?." Bryan smirked, lunging forward and wrapping his arms around her middle. Throwing her over his shoulder, he clambered down the hill and towards the dock.

"Bryan! Bryan, no!" She was laughing though, through the slight edge of panic and she jabbed her fingers into his side. "Bryan! I promise I'll never, ever threaten your masculinity again!" Andrea's voice pitched up into a shriek as he blatantly ignored her pleas.

"You do realize I'm not going to fall for that, right?" Her hair fell out of the ponytail it was in.

"Bryan Danielson is the best in the world!" She tried again as he took a few steps back, kicking off his boots as he went. He flipped her over, carrying her bridal style as he approached the edge of the dock. Smiling, he shook his head.

"Not good enough."

"Dude, how much of your ego do I have to stroke before you let me go?"

He laughed, "This is for waking me up at four in the morning." With that, he tossed her into the lake, smirking in triumph as she came back up. "Hey, you got that stuff off your face." She nodded unenthusiastically as he held his hand out to her. Taking his hand, she pulled him down and into the water.

"That's for throwing me in the lake."

* * *

**July 22nd, 2012: _Carve Something Into A Tree_**

"How does that look?" Andrea asked, looking around for the man. "Bry?"

"Right here, Andie." He whistled, skipping over a fallen tree with a few pieces of wood in his arms. She jumped, startled, and raised a brow. "Miss me?"

"Nope."

"I see how it is." Bryan pouted, standing to the side as she returned her knife to the bark, perfecting little pieces of what she proclaimed as "her masterpiece".

"Woo, woo, woo; you know it," Andrea murmured, glancing at his 'seriously' expression.

"You're hanging around Matt too much," he chided, shaking his head as he showed her his collection. "But, guess what? I got wood."

Both her eyebrows rose, and she leaned back from the tree with a curious expression on her face before she rocked forward. Pressing her forehead against the bark, she laughed freely, tightening her grip on her knife. Slowly after he said it, he realized exactly what he had said, and the double entendre it entailed. His laugh joined hers, and he dropped the stack of wood. Wiping a tear from her eye, she waited until his laughter died out. "Oh God, Bry..." She shook her head with a grin and continued to work at the bark.

"Let me see it," he insisted, peering over her shoulder to see the tree carving. "Andie and Bryan, 2012. Aw, that's nice."

"It is," her smile widened, stepping back with satisfaction.

"It's missing something, though," he stated, plucking the pocket knife from her fingers and she stepped to the side.

"Have at it, Bear Grylls." Andrea stepped away, whistling to herself as he urged her not to look. A few minutes later, he called her back and her eyes brightened at his addition. With a grin, she traced the letters carved into the bark. "Yes, yes, yes."

**July 23rd, 2012: _Stargaze in the forest_**

"Alright, so show me this list," Bryan nudged his friend with his shoulder as she was roasting a marshmallow. Andrea poked at the gooey mass before sandwiching it between two graham crackers and a peanut butter cup. Plucking it out of her pocket, she handed it to him and glanced over his shoulder as he read it. He murmured a few of them under his breath. "Go camping, well... we can check that one off." Bryan grabbed a pen as drew a line through the words. "And _carve something into a tree_...oh, and the concert..." He trailed off, a question forming on his lips as he showed her the list. "Why is one of them covered with a slip of paper."

"Uh," she avoided his gaze before giving him a reassuring smile. "Just a secret. It's the last thing I need to do." Andrea sighed in content, slightly sad that they had to leave the following morning. She eyed him as he stood, retreating into the tent for a minutes before coming back out with a blanket under his arm. Shifting a few things around, he spread the blanket and laid down, eyes trained towards the night sky.

"You know, it's easier to cross things off a bucket list when you actually do them," Bryan commented, patting the spot beside him. "Stargazing in a forest." She chuckled, putting the fire out as she passed by it, coming to a stop on the blanket. Laying beside him, her corner of her mouth twitched upward. Stars dappled the sky, sparkling with their own resounding light. She knew though, that chances are that each and every one of the stars she saw that night were dead, their beauty not reaching the earth until it was far too late.

"Bry?"

"Yeah?"

"You know most of these stars are dead, right?" She asked, and he paused in contemplation.

"They're still beautiful, though." His voice was hard, as if he had taken it a different way. They were silent for a few more moments, a thought burning in the back of her mind. Questions on what would happen after she died, and how her friends and family would cope lingered in her mind and she cleared her throat.

"Bryan?" He only nodded, signifying that she had his attention. "When I die, Bryan... do you think I'll be cremated, or buried?"

"God, Andie," he wiped his face with a frown as she shrugged. "I don't know, Andrea. I'm not ready to think about you dying." She left it at that, and as she returned her gaze to the sky, his fell onto her. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that he just didn't want her to leave. Not that it came as a surprise, but what she had said at the cafe struck him. She had told him that he was the best thing in her life right now. And it went the same for him too. How could he lose such a glow?

Six months was a decent chunk of time, but it just didn't feel like enough. Pushing the thoughts to the far recesses of his mind, he forced himself to focus on the here and now, on his best friend lying on a blanket beside him, watching the stars in the sky dazzle and shine with their own brilliance. Days like these he could spend forever in.

Andrea leaned in closer to him, her voice a whisper in his ear. "That one, up there," she pointed and he followed, "is Serpens." She tilted her head to the side, chewing on her lip and muttering that they had missed Scorpius. Little things, like her pointing out stars in the sky and drawing pictures with their bodies, like her singing random bursts of random songs, like the way she could make him laugh so easily; little things like that where what stood most prominent in his mind. Little things like that were what he was going to miss the most.

No, he wasn't ready to think about her dying.

He didn't think he'd ever be ready.


	3. August

**Guy, I'm here with another chapter of Say Goodbye. I only own Andrea and anyone you don't recognize, so...as of now, Andrea and Jeremy. I revamped my profile, so, if you guys want, you can check it out. You probably should, there's some important information up now. I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors and I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thank you for the reviews, they keep me going and I love hearing your feedback, so send it my way. XD**

**Last lyrics used: Chasing Cars ~ Snow Patrol and Yellow ~ Coldplay**

**I do not own any of the lyrics used in my chapters. Just so we're all aware.**

* * *

**Let the wind carry you home**/ **Blackbird fly away**/ **May you n****ever be broken again**

**Signed with a home tattoo/ Happy birthday to you/ Was created for you**

**I would stop time to stay with you **/ **I would stop time to keep you **/ **Here by my side, in my summer, our last summer **/ **Alive to watch it all, the view from our last summer**

* * *

**Say Goodbye**

**Chapter Two: August**

* * *

**August 3****rd****: **_**Send a message in a bottle**_

When he thought of Andrea, he thought of water and stars. He thought of vast expanses and freedom, an escape from the confines of land. Not that water didn't have its restrictions, but it had a different entity than land. And maybe it was because whenever he saw her in the water it looked like she belonged there, that she had finally found a place of equilibrium and content. When he thought of her, he truly believed that she was meant to live in a little cottage beside the water; somewhere she could be free. He had always said that, while her body was tied to the water, her head was with the stars. Infinite, proud, and glorious, a place far beyond the boundaries of this world. She had always loved the water, just like she had always loved the stars.

Which is why he found it odd that she was still on the beach, pen and paper in hand as she lay on the blanket strewn out. Her eyebrows were crinkled in thought, her pen tapped against her lip and she seemed immersed in whatever it is she was working on. Bryan returned to her, trying to get a peak at the paper. Tilting it away from his view, she clicked her tongue and shook her head, stating that this was not for him to see. "Not for you, Bry."

"Uh-huh." His nod was brief, and she returned the gesture, tugging the hair tie from her hair. Andrea rolled up the paper and bound it with the hair band. "Is it a super secret love letter?" Bryan's head tilted to the side, eyes widening and jaw dropping in his best 'love-stricken teenager' expression. His eyes suddenly lit up and he leaned over her to dig through the beach bag she brought. Taking the camera, he adjusted the settings before returning to his original position beside her.

"You're on a picture kick now?"

"Call it savoring the moment," he cracked a smile, watching as she slipped the rolled up letter into a bottle and corked it. She paused, contemplating for a moment as she traced little shapes into the glass. "Is something wrong?" Andrea glanced at him, then back to the bottle before a small, slight smile tilted at her lips. The letter that spanned an entire page, front and back, that was word after word of things she couldn't say and all the things she had wanted to. She had put it all onto paper, every regret and thought she could muster, and she was about to let them go.

Her thoughts on death, on how she wanted these five months to be slow, so she could savor the moments. She wanted to savor, to hold these moments close and allow them to seep into her memory, she wanted to savor the time she had left with Bryan. She used to think time passed slowly, and she wanted to believe that these months would do the same. Five months was a long time when you imagined January looking forward towards May. Five months was no longer a long time when it was May reminiscing of January. Andrea glanced at him again, realizing that maybe it wasn't as much her not wanting to leave, as much as it was her not wanting to leave _him._ She had just come to accept the fact that a long, happy life just wasn't in her cards.

Every word was a pressure, the feeling of things accumulating within the self. This was pressure slowly being released from her chest, and she sucked in a breath, tasting the salty sweetness of the ocean.

"No, Bryan," she covered her impending sob with a cough and stood, "nothing's wrong." Bryan followed, walking close to her as he had always done until they reached the edge of the surf. Gripping the bottle by its neck, she handed it over to him. "You have a better arm than I do."

He shook his head, "Your letter, your release." His hand came to rest on the small of her back, understanding that whatever was written in that letter meant something to her. Andrea took a small step forward, and with a flick of her wrist, released the bottle into the open ocean. They stood for a moment, the sunset stained ocean carrying the bottle away. And they stood in silence, watching until the glass disappeared from sight. Andrea swallowed, tucking hair behind her ear as she began to turn back toward their spot. But she stopped, her gaze falling on the ocean again.

"I hope heaven is a beach."

Bryan stopped, half pivoted with a grim smile. "Me too, Andrea."

* * *

**August 13****th****: **_**Get a tattoo**_

"I really think you would look awesome with a Daniel Bryan tattoo, or maybe my name," he shrugged half-heartedly with a lop-sided smirk. "Maybe a butterfly." Her nose scrunched up. There wasn't any way she was getting a butterfly tattoo. "Yes, get a butterfly on your butt."

"Um, I like butterflies, and all, but no."

"I could give you my autograph and have this fine gentleman rewrite it on you." He offered, smirking again as he gestured towards the man on the swivel chair, whose own amusement was evident. The man, Jeremy, as his name tag described, nodded. "Then again, there's nothing wrong with rose tattoos either." Andrea thought for a moment, before it came to her. She wanted a tattoo that would mean something, that would reflect an aspect of herself in a piece of infinite art. "What shall it be, Andie?"

She shrugged, walking over to the front desk and leaning on it. Andrea recited what she wanted, and followed Jeremy to the back, Bryan at her heels. Straddling the seat, she positioned her arm as instructed and took a few breaths in to relax. Pulling up a seat beside her, Bryan poked her shoulder. "I'm not crossing it off the list until it's done," he informed, taking her hand in his with a soft smile as her wrist was cleansed and prepped. The soft thrum of the needle broke through the easy silence as she tilted her head to the side, resting it against his shoulder. Little rivulets of pain inched from her wrist and her grip on his hand tightened slightly before easing.

He watched, silent with this simple sort of comfort, as the image began to form on her wrist. She had taken an interest in it as well, her already content smile blossoming on her face as she gazed at it. "You are very good at what you do, Jeremy." Jeremy looked up at her, patting at her wrist before relaying his thanks. Her gaze searched the room, finding the pictures on display particularly intriguing. Each a tattoo, patterned and soaked into the skin of its beholder with an intricate delicacy, a story written in the skin, worn for ages to come and the story retold for countless years. A documentation of a man who was truly gifted in his craft. "How old are you?"

Twenty-three, his reply came and he paused, running his free hand through his choppy black locks. Andrea murmured his response under her breath, a soft 'huh' following shortly after, along with the encouragement that he was going to go far. He stayed silent for a few moments, his question bringing Andrea out of the small cluster of thoughts she had drifted into.

"Huh?"

"How long?" Jeremy asked again, nodding towards their interlaced fingers with a grin. Her hand relaxed slightly, and she could hear Bryan's faint laugh from the side.

"Uh, we're just friends," she murmured, and he seemed to take that statement well. Her eyes found Bryan's, the smile returned. "He's helping me complete my bucket list."

"Cool, cool," he started before his eyebrows knit together. "You're dying?" He muttered a small 'damn' followed by the all-too-common, yet all-too-revealing _'you're too young'_. His eyes sparked with an innocent curiosity, he asked what from, and she was yet again faced with trying to explain something that most just didn't understand. For the first time in a long time, and perhaps the first time she had actually said it aloud and not in the daunting whispers that threatened the back of her mind, she cleared her throat and said it.

"AIDS, I'm dying from AIDS." She waited, patiently for the usual response; the usual flinch or disdainful look that reflected words unspoken. Instead, he shrugged.

"Shit happens." He continued working, and she followed the needle with her eyes, resisting the urge to flinch at a pinprick of pain. Her hand curled into Bryan's again, and he squeezed, gentle enough to let her feel his presence, and strong enough to show his understanding.

"Well, Jeremy, you have fantastic handwriting," she murmured her appreciation, head tilting to the side as he added several finishing touches. Again, he thanked her, wiping off the access ink and blood. With a satisfied nod, he rolled his chair back and slumped into it. Her eyes brightened, a broad grin crossing her face as she twisted her wrist to see it better. And it was everything she had asked for, everything she had hoped for, and more. The exact image of what she had had in mind. He covered it with a bandage and she threw her arms around his neck in a hug. "Thank you, Jeremy."

"You're very welcome, Andrea."

/

Later that week she sat on a park with her legs tucked beneath her and the gentle, steady heat of the August sunset on her shoulders. She could smell the faint linger of his cologne on the air, already distinguishing exactly who it was, mostly because it couldn't have been anybody else. He sat beside her, a folded piece of paper in his hands that was starting to look worn. Uncapping a pen with his teeth, he struck a line through her handwriting before returning both items to his pocket. This was the first she had seen of him since that morning, he had an errand to run, and she had a small, Virginian town to explore.

"I like it," he said, a smile on his face. "It's very... you."

She smiled, looking down at her wrist where the ink had sunken in. A silhouette of two birds, wings spread and soaring, pitch black with the sense of clarity. Below, scripted in an elegant hand, was one word in lowercase, stark against her skin.

_Boundless_.

* * *

**August 24****th****: **_**Have dessert first**_

"Do you like it?" Bryan asked, noting the broad grin on her face as she pulled the item out of its wrappings and set it beside her, the seat resting in her lap. She cast him a look, one that clearly stated that the answer to his question was obvious.

"I love it," she smiled, trailing her fingers along the wheel, spinning it. Moments later, she was lifting it and bounding down the hall. He followed, his hands in his pocket as she placed it at the edge of his driveway and straddled the seat. "My very own unicycle." Bryan smiled back, but it started to falter. This was the last birthday he'd spend with her.

And he was determined to make it the best.

Andrea shrieked, lost her balance, and landed on the gravel with a thud. He helped her back up, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Not so easy, is it?"

"Shut up, I will learn how to ride this thing."

"Would it help if I blasted Eye of the Tiger?" He put his hands on his hips, cocking his head to the side as he began to sing, terribly off-key.

"You did that to me when I was jogging. You drove behind me for forty-five minutes with that damn song on repeat," she leaned forward and pressed her finger to his lips to silence him. "And I almost turned around and kicked you in the face."

"I would've paid to see that," he grumbled, and she retracted her hand away. She smiled again—as if she had ever stopped—and ruffled his hair.

"Thank you, Bryan. This is.. beyond great." Then, she looked up at him, and he saw the look in her eyes. She was just as aware of it as he was, that she was now thirty-one without a chance of making it to thirty-two. He hadn't even really started yet, and she was still overjoyed. Bryan worked out an agreement that she could do whatever she wanted today, as long as she allowed him to take her to dinner later in the evening.

A day of trying to balance on the unicycle, video games, making fun of romantic comedies on Lifetime later, she sat across from him in a somewhat fancy establishment. "Fine dining the dying girl" she described it in a small mutter under her breath, still smiling. They hadn't really talked about it much, both being too caught up in enjoying the moments to really venture into something neither wanted to deal with. He would always think she was too calm, too okay with dying, too relaxed about the entire situation when he knew she was scared. She would always stick to her argument that she didn't want to make everything about her dying, and that people had problems that were worse than hers.

"I'll have the cheesecake," Andrea said, rolling her lips together in thought. "Yes," she confirmed with a nod, much to Bryan's and the waitress's surprise, "Cheesecake."

"No dinner?" He asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Oh, we'll have dinner...just later. C'mon, either of us could drop dead at any given moment. Hell, I'm going to in, about... four, seeing as August is almost over, months," she sighed at his unamused, pointed look. "Sorry. Having dessert before dinner is supposedly one of the best things in the world. Being the self-proclaimed 'best in the world', I assumed you'd be game." Bryan knew what she was doing, teasing and taunting him as she shot him a sugary-sweet smile.

"It's not self-proclamation." He turned his head towards the waitress. "Two slices of cheesecake."

"Sounds like a plan," the waitress replied, scrawling the order down. "What flavor?"

"Just the plain."

"And that comes with different syrups, if you'd like." The waitress tapped her pen against the pad of paper as she smiled.

"Caramel sounds good," Bryan murmured, eliciting a laugh from Andrea.

"Your crazy butt can get the caramel," she sighed with false indignation, "I'm getting chocolate." With a smile, the waitress left, leaving the two friends and murmuring that 'something had to be going on'.

Bryan broke the small silence by pointing to a small sign on the wall, "Hey, would ya look at that, their cheesecake is lactose free. They must've known I was coming." Minutes later, they received their desserts, and ate in a comfortable conversation, reminiscing on years past. When they had finished, they left, and Bryan stayed close to her on the sidewalk. "Y'know, just in case."

"Just in case a black hole opens up in the middle of the sidewalk and sucks me in?" Andrea tested, and he nodded, affirming that that was indeed the most concerning issue. "Do you remember our senior prank?"

Bryan thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, we uh, golfed from the roof into the football field."

"And," they were walking close enough that their elbows and shoulders were touching, "we turned all our desks to face the back of the classroom and frantically took notes every hour. Then, during lunch we," she started and Bryan cut in with a smile.

"Flash-mobbed the cafeteria to Cotton-Eye Joe."

"Mr. Price started dancing," Andrea remembered, laughing as the memory came to her mind. "Anyway, it was the best." She stopped, and he turned to face her, poised to ask why she had stopped when she wrapped her arms around him. "This was the best birthday ever, Bryan. Really, this was... beyond perfect." He smiled a little, slightly perplexed that her idea of perfection fell into simplicity. As long as he had known her, fourteen years come September, to be exact, she had always taken a liking to the easiness of simplicity, over the trouble of making things complicated. He just didn't think that lazing around all day and going back to their high-school years would fall into her mind's perfection. But, he had done what she had asked, and her happiness was his main goal for the upcoming months. To make her happiest, to be there for her just as he had promised all those years ago. Six, five, four...a few months didn't change, snap, or twist the bond between them. A few months couldn't erase fourteen years. His arms wrapped around her, and he could feel her smile against his neck.

"Happy birthday, Andrea."


	4. September

**So here we have another chapter of Say Goodbye! I only own Andrea, and I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors.**

**Lyrics used in last chapter: Blackbird ~ Alter Bridge, Come Undone ~ Duran Duran/My Darkest Days (whichever you prefer), Last Summer ~ Lostprophets  
**

**School starts in about a month, so here's to hoping I can finish this story by then! XD**

**That huge chunk if italicized text is a flashback, and I'll put another tip when it starts/ends.**

**Love, Kiwi**

**To Infinity and Beyond**

* * *

**Things are changing/It seems strange and /I need to figure this out/You've got your life/ I got mine/ But you're all I cared about**

**Tell me I can make it through this day**/ **I don't even have the words to pray** / **You have been the only one who never left me** /**Help me find the way through all my fears**/ **Help me see the light through all my tears**/ **Help me see that I am not alone in this**

* * *

**Say Goodbye**

**Chapter Four: September**

* * *

**September 1****st****, 2012: **_**Start Route 66**_

_** Lockport , Illinois**_

"So," Bryan murmured, leaning with his hip against the front of the car, "have everything?" He checked the map, tracing the route with this finger before shaking his head and cursing, swearing he'd just type the address into the GPS.

"Uh, no," Andrea slithered beside him, plucking the map from his hands. "We're doing this the natural way." She stated, adamant that they use a map, otherwise the entire trip wouldn't be "up to par." He was sure that they would get lost, and he rolled his eyes as she trotted around to her side of the car. "You _did_ pack pineapple juice, right?"

"No, I didn't, actually. You have to break your addiction sometime, Andie," he chuckled at her expression before going around to the trunk and opening it, showing her the cooler. "Pineapple juice, enough to last until we stop tomorrow. I have your favorite blanket, six of your books, a board game," he rifled through the contents of the trunk, showing her a little bit of each just to prove he had done what she asked. Her face shone with mock surprise.

"You do care," she nodded slowly, showing her approval. "So... we're all set?"

He returned her nod, slinging an arm across her shoulder. They were just outside of Chicago, about to head off on their road trip down Route 66, with their sights on Santa Monica Pier. She wanted this trip to last, and it would be what September consisted of. A nice, long road trip with her best friend, it was bound to be perfect. Andrea tossed a look over her shoulder as a heavily-tattooed man sprinted across his lawn. They had decided to pay their friend a visit, it was primarily Bryan's idea, because he knew this might've been the last time she would have an opportunity to see Phil.

"Punkert!" She laughed, throwing her arms around Phil's neck while Bryan returned to his place by the car.

"Goldilocks!" He returned, swaying her a little as he retracted. "Let me see it," he urged, glancing at her at different angles. He was trying to find the tattoo she had told him about, "Unless it's hidden somewhere..." Phil's eyebrows wagged and she rolled her eyes. Offering up her wrist, he took it and studied it, biting his lip in thought. "I like it," he finally said, dropping her wrist. "You're finally a member of the Tattoo Club." He cracked a grin, gesturing to himself. "And you have a lot of catching up to do."

"Of course," she nudged the ground with the tip of her shoe. "Hey, uh, Phil? Before we leave, do you mind if I get a picture with you?" She reached into her purse and pulled out the small camera. She captured that moment in her memory, on a picture she would keep until it came time for her to go. Phil pulled her into one last hug, whispering in her ear that he would miss her, if this really was the last time. She had met him in Ring of Honor, because Bryan had a friend she 'just had to meet'. From then on, they got along well. And it would be hard to leave.

She blinked. She didn't want to think about dying just yet, because it was still off in the distance, and this was the here and the now. Death was quick, and simple, and easy. _Dying_ took time, and it was a wonder to her how so many months, days and moments would lead up to something that would be instantaneous. And starting your closest friends off with a dose of you not being there was one of the steps of dying.

Dying, as in fading steadily throughout the years to an inevitable end. Bryan wasn't fading, Phil wasn't fading, but she was. Each day that passed was part of her life fading away, and she realized that, according to this philosophy, she had been dying since the day she was born.

But, she wasn't dead yet. Saying goodbyes were a part of dying, and somehow she knew, in the pit of her stomach, that this would be the last time she saw him. So, she smiled, flitting in for another picture, another memory, and softly let the words slip from her lips. Phil pulled her into another hug, and she said those two words under her breath. He heard though, and his embrace tightened. Unsure of what to say, he gave her shoulder a little squeeze, and that was enough for her.

It was a way to say goodbye without having to say it.

* * *

**September 3rd, 2012: **

_**St. Louis: Missouri**_

She didn't understand why this was happening, and as she laid on the uncomfortable motel bed, her mind flashed through the past. The past 30-odd years, and they had passed as if they were a few months. Her mind was caught, mostly between her own fear of dying, and the man who was currently buying food. Andrea groaned, flipping over on to her stomach as she rested her head on her forearms. She didn't mean to sound selfish when she wondered what he would do, or how he would handle her death. All she knew was that it would impact him, and that he would be hurt. She understood that, it was perfectly natural to be hurt, scared, and utterly distraught along with a hundred other emotions she couldn't categorize.

She just didn't like that she would be the cause of these feelings, and his pain, and the pain of all of her friends. Her close, tight-knit group of friends she had made over the years were the ones she shared countless nights with, staying up late watching stupid movies and making memories sure to last. Knowing you were going to die soon was a feeling she didn't wish on anybody, because all of a sudden you had this time frame, a span of time for you to gather your thoughts, tie up loose ends, and well, live like you're dying.

And, it was funny, well... maybe funny wasn't the right word, but... ironic that most people didn't actually start living until they knew they were dying. Since July, she had completed things she hadn't done in years, or had never gotten the chance to do. Had she been a perfectly healthy woman, she wasn't sure it would've happened. Some people did funny things once they knew they were dying; like tell people they loved them, or tell that one person they always had a thing for that they had a thing for them, change who they were to who they wanted to be, so they could leave behind reasons to be missed. Others kept the inevitable to themselves, and lived on as they always did, regardless of health. She had always wanted to be categorized with the latter, but she knew better that she was probably a mixture of the two.

Andrea got up and walked over to the window sill, nestling herself on the small ledge. She pushed the curtain back and pressed her forehead against the cool glass. A smile twitched at her lips and she hummed under hear breath as she stared at the large oak tree outside. It reminded her of a time, a simpler time when she was a teenager too scared to jump from the tree was she was dared to climb. It reminded her of him, strong and reliable; there and stable, rooted into her life. His presence was her safety, and the fact that they were friends was purely chance.

She remembered the first day she met Bryan Danielson. The first day of senior year in high school, and she had been the new kid. An obvious new kid; an unfamiliar face, and unfamiliar accent and an unfamiliar presence. First days in unfamiliar places either went in one's favor, or played to his or her misfortune. For her, it just happened to be misfortune.

_{Flashback}_

_The day, up to that point, had been slightly miserable for the Vermont native. Her first hour English class was the first step towards the many of dysfunctional moments in her day. She had already completed that years English class reading list throughout her previous years in her old school, and, when she had told the teacher that, a few of her classmates erupted into giggles and subsequently muttered a phrase all-too-familiar for her; "nerd"._

_"I wouldn't worry about it," a guy had stated, voice slightly above a whisper as he leaned towards her. His pen tapped against his desk and she could blatantly see the schedule taped to his notebook, and she instantly recognized that it mimed hers. If she could tail him for the rest of the day, without him catching her, she would be set and could go on without becoming the bumbling little new kid, lost on her way to Chemistry._

_Her plan worked, until Pre-Calc, where whatever luck she had finally ran out. The torrent of students rushing towards the lunch room pushed her closer to him than she had wanted, and she bobbed and weaved through the crowd until she found the wall. When the rush ended, and she had regained her bearings, she turned and was fact-to-face with the boy she had effectively named "English Class"._

_"Why are you following me?"_

_Alarmed, she dropped her books, cussing as she dropped to her knees and tried to gather them. "I-I um, well... I didn't want to get lost? Your maps," she pointed to one on the wall, "suck."_

_He laughed, nodding his agreement as he assisted her. As she stood, he slipped the last one into her arms. "You could've asked."_

_"But then I would've missed out on my chance to stealthily follow the hot guy from my English class." The words left her mouth quickly and she cast her gaze to the floor, trying to avoid the curious, slightly amused look he was giving her. "And I totally just said that. Well, now that you think I'm the weird, nerdy girl, I'm going to go that way," she pointed in the opposite direction and was about to head off when he stopped her._

_"I kinda like the weird, nerdy girls." Andrea smiled, dragging a hand through her hair. "I'm Bryan." He smiled, a trait of his she would come to find endearing and one of his best physical features. His hand extended, and she took it after a moment's hesitation._

_"Andrea." _

_{End Flashback}_

Yes, she remembered clear as day. It was something she was certain she'd never forget, because, how did you forget the day you met the person you fell in love with?

* * *

**September 10****th****, 2012: **_**Visit Mom**_

_**Carthage, Missouri**_

Her knees dug into the soft, dewy grass and she gingerly ran her fingers across the engraving on the stone. Countless others just like it were lined up on both sides, some with bouquets nestled at their base, others nothing. For some reason, she thought this would be different. She thought the moment she actually met her mother would ease whatever pain she still felt, melt away all the anger she held deep within her. But it didn't, and she felt cold with the kind of forgiveness that came with dying.

And she thought that had something to do with the fact that she didn't identify her birth mother as her actual mother. No, her actual mother, the woman who nursed and raised her, braided her hair and fed her soup when she was ill, was in Washington living in a nice, cozy little home on a hill with her father. She knew little of her mother's life, only that her adoptive parents had fulfilled the one wish her mother had before the latter gave away the little girl she couldn't raise; that she would be named after her.

Her fingers danced across the engraving, tracing the name before falling to the birth and death. December 16th, 1987. She would've been orphaned anyway and she stood, brushing the grass from her knees before turning to Bryan. His arm slid around her waist, and he gave her a light squeeze. "She didn't die from it, Bry. She overdosed, that's what her friends say."

"Andrea," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. He didn't want to say he was sorry, he didn't know what to say, or how to make her feel better, so he let her bury her face in his neck.

"She could've been more careful, taken better care of herself... she could've just... wanted me a little more. Couldn't she?" Her breath was quickening, and he knew the aftermath all too well. He winced, slightly flinching as he felt her tears against his neck. "N-None of this would've happened, none of this would be happening."

"Yeah," he began, stroking her hair with one hand while the other traced circles into her back, "but you didn't know her, Andrea." She sunk down to the ground, and he followed, keeping his arms around her. The blonde was silent for a while, her tears slightly subsiding as he brushed them away.

"Why don't I hate her, Bryan? Why? I-I'm angry at her, and I wanted her life to be better, but why can't I blame her? It'd be so easy to just..._blame_ her and hate her for this, but I can't." Her voice was cracking, wavering and she cleared her throat to try to get it out of her system. She was searching her heart for forgiveness, she didn't want to leave with a hard, bitter feeling in her chest. It didn't make sense to her to die with hate and anger in her heart. "I think...," she coughed, taking a few slow breaths to calm her thundering chest, "I think I forgive her, Bryan."

* * *

**September 15th, 2012: **

_**Texas**_

"Can you stop blaming me for the stupid car?" He pleaded, fingers tapping repeatedly against the smooth counter top. "It's not my fault." Bryan yanked open the door for the mini-fridge nestled below the entertainment center. Placing a few bottles of lemonade and water inside it, he shut it and turned to look at her. She sat on the bed with her legs dangling over the side, her head in her hand.

"I never said it was," she replied quietly, keeping her eyes trained out the window. The car had broken down, and they wound up spending the night in a hotel in Texas while their car got repaired. She would have to thank the mechanic in the morning, vehemently because he was working hours he shouldn't have had to, and had decided to do the repairs that night rather than the next day. Cars stopped working all the time, and, if she had let on that she thought it was his fault, she wasn't aware of it.

It was past midnight, and they were both tired and irritable, both still avoiding an elephant in the room. "This makes it...," he trailed off, doing the math in his head, "three months. Starting in October."

"And it's still September. I have time, Bryan, trust me. I have enough." Andrea took in a breath and released it, making a mental note that she would have to get her affairs sorted out when she got back home. She would have to call her parents, probably her doctor and a lawyer. Slowly, she ran her hand along her side, feeling the ribs beneath the skin where, a few months ago, muscle had been. She knew it would only get worse, and she made another mental note to ask her doctor if there was anything she could take to ease this.

"It's not enough," Bryan murmured, "you're thirty-one, Andrea."

"I can't help it, Bryan." She would get weaker, and weaker, her body slowly decaying until it would ultimately fail her. Weakened and dulled to where she wouldn't be able to fend for herself, to where she would become dependent on someone else. He seemed to know what she was thinking, because he slid in next to her and took her hand in his. "You're going to see me, Bry, and it won't be me. I'll be weak, frail," she smiled bitterly, shaking her head, "and I'll probably be helpless. And it'll start happening soon, Bryan."

He squeezed her hand, "You remember when we were eighteen, right? And how you were afraid you'd fall, but I promised I'd catch you?" She nodded. "You're scared now, and I'll still catch you. You don't have to pretend around me, and you know that. This is scary, Andie, I know that. And I'm scared too, but I will never leave you, Andrea. Never. I don't care how sick you get, how frail or small you feel, I'll always be right here, because that's where I promised I would be. Right beside you, through everything and anything, and I'll do whatever I need to, because I'm your man."

* * *

**September 25th, 2012: _Ride a rollercoaster until I puke_**

_**Santa Monica Pier**_

Bryan chortled to himself, looking over her list with an amused smirk. Andrea stood, doubled over with one hand pinning her hair back and the other gripping the rim of a trash can. She retched, and he whistled a small tune under his breath. "How you holding up, Andie?" She responded with a choked 'fuck you' and an obscene hand gesture. "Who wants to ride a roller coaster until they hurl, anyway?"

She lifted her head slightly, enough to send him a glare, but her stomach had other plans, and she dipped back down. He chewed his lip, crossing it off her list as a half-satisfied smirk formed on his face. Bryan handed her a paper towel and a bottle of water. As she finished, she took the items and muttered her thanks before joining him. Sipping on the water, she screwed the cap back on. "You crossed it off the list?"

"You were...occupied." His hand slipped into his pocket and he drew out a pack of gum, handing it to her with a shrug. She took it and popped a piece into her mouth. "Now, I think we're done for the day." She nodded in agreement, taking in a deep breath and focusing in on the scenario around her. They had made to Santa Monica Pier, and it hardly felt like they had been all the way in Chicago twenty-something days ago. A month long car trip, hours trapped in a car with someone... you learned a lot about them, even if they were already your best friend. He missed his friends, she could tell and while he was in the shower the other day, she took the liberty to call them and set up a date to meet up in the near future. Andrea enjoyed Bryan's company, but she wouldn't let him cut off ties with all of his friends. Regardless of how much they said they understood, she wouldn't allow it. "This was probably the most amusing month of my life. Probably the most fun I've had in a while."

Andrea laughed, remembering cranking up the volume of classic rock songs as they cruised down the road, midnight runs for food, cramped hotel rooms and a cluster of interesting people they had met along the way. Yeah, she agreed. It was the most fun in a while. She couldn't think of anyone she'd rather spend it with.

He put his arm loosely around her, the way close friends often did and smiled. She returned the expression, and he tried to memorize it so he could hold it in his mind forever. Surely the time would come where her face would be contorted with pain, and she would need help doing daily tasks. And, when that time came, he'd be beside her. She could count on him to be there to heal what he could, and hold her until ill-feelings passed, through the nights when she couldn't handle the pressure and the pain.

"I'm your man, Andrea."

"I know."


	5. October

**So, I'm back with Say Godbye! I only own Andrea. I do not own any song lyrics used, although there are none in this chapter because I really wanted to get this up. I apologize for any spelling/grammar errors and how long it took me to update, because the wait was kind of ridiculous. So, please read, review, and joy. :D I hope some of you are still out there. :D**

To infinity and beyond,

Kiwi

* * *

** October 6****th, ****2012:** _**Make him dinner**_

"Bryan," she pouted and whined, the sound fading into a growl as he hovered over her. He started at the pan atop the stove, before flickering his gaze to the sauce and pasta on her right. "I thought I told you to wait in the other room."

"You did... and I ignored it," he shrugged, peering over her shoulder. "What'cha making?"

"You dinner," Andrea chuckled, stirring the pot of pasta with one hand and shooing him off with the other. "Now go, I'm doing this alone."

"I can help. After all, I am the one eating it," Bryan said, planting his hands on his hips with a smile. He was just joshing around, but she was being serious. She had just come over earlier, carrying shopping bags full of food and setting them down on the counter, turning the necessary appliances on and setting to work. Andrea gave him warning that he had to stay put and act like she wasn't there, something he wasn't very good at. He wondered if this was part of her bucket list, or just one of her random things she did.

She never cooked for him, he had always done the cooking whenever she ended up staying over the night, or needed food in general. "Yeah, and I'm eating it too." Andrea stopped stirring the pasta, strained it and brought it over to the counter. "Bring me the sauce, please." He did as she asked and went over to the opposite side of the counter to watch her layer the pasta and sauce.

"Vegan lasagna," he chuckled, finger reaching forward to swipe a dab of sauce while she wasn't looking. Tasting it, he smiled. "Taste's good." She brought her gaze to meet his, and he watched with a half-amused smirk as it hardened. He almost smiled, almost cracked a joke... until he saw the different glint in her eye. Until he took in her appearance again, and how he could see the fear, see all the thoughts swimming in her head and all the emotions she had suppressed.

She looked different, more aged and tired.

She looked like she was sick, and as terrible as it sounded, he was counting down the days. Counting down the days to when he'd have to learn to not see her face every day, to when her laugh would be a faint echo in his memory, to when the only chance he'd get to talk with her would be at her grave.

Bryan shook his head, gulping and forcing a smile to his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the calendar she had on the wall. _October_. What had happened to the summer?, he wondered. The camping trip, the concert, when had that all happened? How did six months evaporate into three?

"Hey Bry?" He looked up, momentarily alarmed at the sudden voice.

"Yeah, Andie?"

Andrea coughed into her elbow and ran her hands back through her hair. "I, uh, I think I'm going to go lie down for a bit." Her hand rested against the wall, using it to stabilize her as she inched past him. She noticed his worry. "What's with the eyebrows?"

"What?"

She reached up, stroking the side of his face with her thumb. Her eyes fell, flashed and dulled. "You need to shave," her voice came out as a murmur, thumb resting on his chin. Then she came back to the broken thought. "Your eyebrows get all crinkly when you're worried about me." Then, she slipped by him, as if were just a passing moment. He wanted to speak up, wanted to say something about it. Talk about it with her, so he knew, and she knew, what would happen.

He knew she would die. He knew when, and he knew how, what he couldn't understand was _why_. Why her, and why was she so calm about it? Why did it feel like he was more concerned about her life than she was. His mouth opened, and he almost called out her name, but she had already slipped into the bedroom.

Later that evening, he sat on the edge of her bed with a T.V. tray and two plates of lasagna. She pushed herself to sit up, and took the fork with a shaky hand. "I'm sorry I bailed on you," she murmured again.

"It's fine. I understand."

"You're doing so much for me, Bryan. So fucking much when you shouldn't have to. I-I should call somebody... hire somebody. Y-you had a job, and you were being paid, and you have friends...how could I take that away from you? I-I mean... you shouldn't be here, watching me die. Bryan," she choked, her voice barely coming out. He watched her, letting her finish her little speech before trying to calm her down. The effects of her disease were wearing on him as well, that he wouldn't deny. "I'd ask you to go, but you'd stay. You always stay, Bryan."

"It's because I know you can't get enough of this," he gestured down to himself with his free hand and she chortled. "I noticed you met with your doctor this morning. Not allowed to be outside?"

"Minimal exposure," Andrea said, adding air-quotes around the words with a slight roll of her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to be bedridden, or put on house-arrest, because that meant the end was approaching. She glanced down at the tattoo on her wrist and bit her lip. _Boundless_. Inwardly she scoffed at the irony. Boundless, yet she was trapped inside her own home. "So," she said suddenly, hoping to draw attention away from where it was almost destined to go, "how do you like it?" Andrea nodded to his plate.

"It's great, Andrea," he smiled, taking her practically full plate. "You done?" When she nodded again, he grimaced and quickly replaced the look with another smile. Her appetite had left, fatigue had settled in like a small animal seeking shelter from a storm, and fragility had crept across her skin. Bryan left the room, and by the time he returned, she had fallen asleep.

With a sigh, he leaned against the door frame with his hand resting on the light switch. July seemed so long ago, and he almost felt like he could've done more. He blamed himself for not pushing her to try other treatments, as if the progression could be haltered any more than it already had. His gaze flickered to the calender on her wall. _October_. How could it be October already?

October meant two months after the thirty-first. Was there any way to get the feelings he had out by then? Or would it be just a hopeless cause? Shrugging it off, he walked over to her bed and removed the T.V. tray, collapsed it, and set it on the floor by her bed stand. Leaning down, he brushed stray hair from her face and kissed her forehead. He pulled the covers up to her shoulders and started out the room.

Again, he hovered by the doorway, fingers flitting over the light switch. Flicking the light off, he turned around to face her. "Goodnight, Andrea," he whispered. _Goodnight_ because he would be seeing her again, and he wouldn't say goodbye. Never would he say goodbye, because goodbye had the implication of leaving, and when a person left, there was a chance he or she'd never come back. So, he'd hold on to that little loophole—if he never said goodbye, she'd never leave.

And even a little, fragile piece of hope was better than none.

* * *

**October 17****th****, 2012: **_**Watch movies all day**_

"Wake up, Sleepy Head," Bryan laughed, shoving her shoulder playfully as he sat on the edge of the bed. She groaned, cracking one eye open as she ran her hand through her bedraggled hair. Sunlight glinted through the blinds, and she quickly snapped her eyes shut. "C'mon, Andrea, what's on the agenda today, hmm...?" He leaned closer to her, brushing hair out of her face. She turned her face away, further burying it in her pillow.

"Nothing," she grunted, wincing as a sharp pain pinched at her side. Her body felt drained, scarce and dry. It was like a drought had settled within her bones, a broad vast expanse of brittleness that thirsted for water that would never come. She was tired, in more ways than she could think of, and in almost every way that word was defined.

Today was going to be one of those days, and it would be the first in a series of days where she could do nothing more than stay in bed. There would be days of fatigue, days of pain, and days where she would think her body decayed enough to simply evaporate.

His eyebrows knit together and his face scrunched up. "You alright?" She rolled over to face him, giving him a pointed look as she propped herself up on her elbow. "I'll take that as a no."

"I just... I don't want to go anywhere today, Bryan." Out of the corner of her eye she saw his face fall, and she knew he was worried. He knew what this meant, and what this would lead to. A hot, burning sensation filled her eyes and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.

"It's not your fault," Bryan murmured, rubbing her shoulder affectionately as he got up. She bit her lip, trying to calm the bitter feelings swarming in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want to be helpless, yet here she was, barely able to do much of anything. Andrea sighed and Bryan was halfway to the door before he turned to look at her. "I'll be right back, alright?" Andrea just nodded, returning the soft smile he flashed her.

He did return to her, and when he came back through the door, she was curled up beneath the comforter of her bed, the blanket clutched around her withering frame. Andrea greeted him, and he nodded, revealing that he had a bag with him. Her eyebrow rose and he sat beside her, emptying the contents on the bed. "Movies?"

"Yeah, we're spending the day in here." Bryan patted the bed with a grin, one of his more enthusiastic, strong smiles. The ones he used when he knew she was falling apart on the inside. He spread out the cases. "Which one first?"

She chuckled, tucking stray hair behind her ear as she grabbed one of them. "Bad Boys... definitely." It was her favorite, all of them were her favorites—a scattered array of action, comedies, romance, horror, and she smiled. "We'll start with Bad Boys." Andrea cleared her throat, gathering the pile of DVDs and setting them in a neat stack on her bed stand. He inserted the movie and sat beside her.

She curled into him, and he put his arm around her. Time passed quickly as they went through movies, laughing and quoting the parts as if this were any other day and they weren't battling for more time. It was halfway through a Disney movie when she looked up at him. "Do you want to go back to work?"

"What? And leave you here alone? Not happening, Andrea," he pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Besides, he gave me six months and I'm not coming back until...," he trailed off. "I won't be back for a while."

"The fans miss you. You should at least tell them where you are."

"I did. They know I'm helping a good friend recover," Bryan said.

"You're watching your best friend die, Bryan. There's a difference. Forget I brought it up," Andrea shook her head. "I don't want us to fight, Bryan. Please?"

He only nodded, returning his attention to the movie. "They know you're sick, Andrea. People at work know you're sick, and they don't care that I'm gone. You mean more to me than my job, Andie. And how long have you been out of work?"

Andrea sighed. "About four months, give or take. You know that they replaced me after I told them how long I had left. 'To let me rest'," Andrea said, rolling her eyes. "I guess it was a good thing," she murmured, resting her head against his chest and he slid his arm around her. He frowned, almost grimacing as he traced her ribcage through her shirt.

Progressive lack of appetite, fatigue, memory loss...

Bryan counted off the symptoms in his head in order that he remembered seeing them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his phone blink. "Andrea, um, I need to take this call." She nodded, scooted to the side and nestled herself back down into the mattress. Bryan stood and left the room, cell phone already to his ear.

"Have you told her yet?" It had been so long, he barely recognized Stu's voice. The thick English accent filtered through the phone and he shook his head for a moment before he realized that the Englishman couldn't see him.

"No."

"About the get-together, or that ache in your chest?"

"I kinda hate how well you can read that," Bryan mumbled, shoving his free hand into his pocket.

"You make it pretty obvious."

"She hasn't noticed."

A sigh. "What's the harm in tellin' her, lad?"

"Well, for starters, it wouldn't last," Bryan spat sarcastically, trying to ignore the hard lump that had formed in his throat. He had promised her he wouldn't cry, and he had tried to stay optimistic, but every time he looked at her, it became harder.

"Love lasts, Bryan. Longer than a lifetime." There was a brief pause. "How's she doin'? Would she be up for a visit?" Bryan moved towards the door again and nudged it open with is foot. From the bed she looked up and smiled; he gave a slight wave and turned around again.

"I don't know, man."

"I miss her, Bryan," he heard the deep intake of breath. In the months past, he had almost forgotten that he wasn't the only one suffering. Andrea had other friends, and he cursed himself, thinking he should've called Phil, Stu, and the rest of them. Andrea had Phil and she had Stu, and they were close to her. And they were going through the same loss he was. In the background, he heard a yell, and Stu's response. "_We_ miss her."

He thought about it, thinking that he got to see her; whereas they didn't. He couldn't shelter her from it, and he couldn't hide her away from them. It was selfish. "Um, is next week OK?"

"Next week's fine, Bryan. I'll, uh... I'll see you later." Then the line cut and he pocketed his phone. Returning to Andrea, he slid beside her and glanced at the screen.

"_Fox and the Hound_?"

"Yeah," she responded, returning her head to his shoulder. "Was that Stu?" Bryan nodded and she murmured under her breath, looping her arm with his. "I miss him." Andrea paused, "How's the list coming along? Can I see it?"

He retrieved it for her, along with a pen, and watched as she scratched off "_Watch movies all day"_, and added another at the end. Tears misted his eyes as her shaky hand slid across the paper.

_See my friends before I die_.

* * *

**October 26****th****, 2012: **_**Beat Stu at Pool**_

Her jaw dropped slightly as she took in who was standing before her. The man smiled, slightly uneasily, and fidgeted. Tears budded in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Stu smiled wider, pointing behind her. "Bryan worked it all out. Called me , asked if I could visit. I thought it'd raise your spirits." Andrea grinned, wrapping her arms around Stu's neck as he pulled her into a hug. He held her to him, walking forward and kicking the door shut behind him. "I missed you, Goldilocks."

"Missed you too, Papa Bear," she whispered as he set her down and ruffled her hair. Her hand ran along the scruff on his jaw. "Since when did you grow a beard?" Andrea sighed, her lips starting to hurt from the grin. "I haven't seen you since February. You look good, better than good." Andrea murmured. He chuckled, looking down at her.

"Likewise." She smiled again, didn't argue, and picked up the cane that leaned against the wall. She saw his gaze fall to it.

"I know. Your Goldilocks won't be breaking any chairs anytime soon." She gave the cane a slight wave. "I've changed a bit since you last saw me." Stu shook his head and followed her as she made her way to the stairs, Bryan following beside her.

"You'll still be my Goldilocks. I'll still be Papa Bear, Matt'll still be Baby Bear, and Phil will still be Mama Bear." Stu informed, offering his arm to her as they approached the stairs. "Come on, let me carry you."

"You need your arm for pool, Stu."

"Pool?" He questioned and Bryan nodded.

"I have to beat you at pool. It's on my list."

Before Stu could ask, Bryan cut in. "She has a list of things to do before she... passes away."

"Well, I can manage that," Stu stated. Andrea's eyebrow rose and she smacked his shoulder.

"If you let me win, Stu, I will attack you with this," she nodded towards her the cane. Walking had become strenuous, and the cane helped. Stu insisted that he help her down the stairs, and, when she eventually conceded, he let her climb onto his back. With her arms draped over his shoulders, and his hooked under her knees, he started down the stairs.

The first couple games, she lost, but she remained ever hopeful that his guard would slip. While they played, they caught up on times missed. He spoke of his injury, and the setback it made in his career, and how everybody backstage was doing. "Havin' a guy land on you apparently dislocates your elbow. I wouldn't recommend it." Stu winked and set up the table for another game. "Now, do you want me to go a little easier on you?" He joked and she brushed it off with a mocking laugh.

"No, I'mma beat you fair and square, Mr. Bennett. Third time's the charm, remember?" Andrea gathered her hair into a low ponytail and cracked her knuckles. She walked around him, patting his bicep as she went. He knew exactly what she was alluding to. That was the way it worked out sometimes.

Three tries of asking her out for drinks before she finally said yes. The third try leading to one of the three one-night stands they had had. Stu looked up, smirking slightly before shaking his head. "Bryan didn't talk to me for a month when he found out about the first one."

"Which is why I'm glad he didn't find out about the other two. He just thought it was odd that two people could be such great friends after a one-night stand," Andrea shrugged, taking a shot and knocking a ball into a hole. "And I didn't realize until after the fact how much danger I put you in, Stu."

Stu rolled his shoulders. "I'm perfectly alright. You were honest. It was safe. I'm fine," he ran a hand through his hair, as if that was proof. "Honestly, jus' glad that we stayed friends."

"Me too," she smiled. "I think we both realized we were better off friends than lovers." The duo laughed, bringing up old memories, sharing the time they had together. "Better off friends than lovers," she repeated and Stu put his hands on his hips.

"Can I ask you something, Andrea?"

"Hm? Of course." She went back to make her shot.

"You really like him, Bryan." Stu nodded in the direction of the stairs. When she nodded subtly, he repeated the motion. "You always did, and I think that's why we were better off as friends," he saw the sudden expression change in her face and he retraced his words. "I'm not mad, Andrea. I never was. It was always him, and that's fine. If you needed a nudge, or somethin' to make you realize that, I was more than happy to help." He tossed in a sideways smirk that elicited a chuckle from her.

"Some nudge," she muttered.

"I'm going to miss you, Andrea." Stu stated, his eyes reaching hers. She pursed her lips, and he could see she was trying not to cry. "I don't think I needed to tell you that. I don't want us to be awkward around each other, but I can promise you this won't be the last time you see me. Not if I have anything to say about it. You're one of my closest friends, Andrea, and I want you to stay strong like you always have, okay?"

Andrea brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. "It's the end of October, Stu. I-I'll have until December, or January, at most. I'm losing time, and I think I'm starting to realize this. It's like I still have so much to do and I have no time to do it."

"Have you thought that maybe telling him would fix that?" Andrea's eyes widened and she shook her head.

"No. No. That's out of the question, Stu. Three months? How could I put him through that, even if he reciprocated. It wouldn't be fair. No."

"You know how well Bryan takes no for an answer," Stu murmured under his breath. He glanced at the clock and cursed under his breath. "Andrea, love, I have to go. But, I'll call. I promise I'll call."

"I should've called in the first place. I just—," he cut her off with a curt shake of his head.

"Bryan always told us you were busy, and I understand. It's okay, Rea." He placed his hand on the side of her head and pulled her into a hug. "Keep in touch, okay. You always have me, Goldilocks. You'd never have to go through this alone." She nodded, tears moistening the nape of his neck and she apologized for crying. "Don't apologize, love. It'll be okay."

He paused for a moment, looking over her shoulder at the pool table. A chuckle rumbled out of his throat and he tightened his hug a bit. "Hey Goldilocks?"

"Yeah, Papa Bear?"

"You won."


	6. November

**Woohoo, here I am (finally)! Anyway, this is the second to last chapter, I believe. I only own Andrea. Please read, review, and enjoy because I love reading all your feedback. I do not own any of the lyrics used.**

**I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors.**

**To infinity and beyond,**

**Kiwi**

* * *

**Say Goodbye**

**November**

* * *

**"And off into the distance/Somewhere above reality/Essence of feeling/**

**Has somehow reminded me/Leave a whisper/**

**For the dearly departed/And trade a bag of fools for the broken hearted"**

* * *

**November 9****th****: **_**Be kissed unexpectedly**_

It was November, it was snowing, and Andrea and Bryan were fighting.

Lately, due to her deteriorating health, Bryan had slipped into a protection mode. He had been trying to help her with everything, as if she could break at any second. He was afraid she would, and that he'd be left far before he was ready. Lately, they fought.

Ever since Stu left, they had been almost constantly arguing, and both knew it wasn't good for her health, or his, for that matter. He wasn't exactly sure why, and he wasn't about to go deciphering things he couldn't comprehend, but it felt like she didn't care. Maybe it was because she never cried, or her incessant need to prove to him that she wasn't dead yet, and that she didn't need to be treated as such.

She stood before him, shaking hand encasing the head of her cane in a death grip. Her shoulders slumped and her shirt hung limply from her frame. He could hear her breathing; long, scraping breaths escaped her lungs as if they were hollow and scratched. It had only gotten harder for her: harder to breath, harder to walk, harder to do pretty much everything. And the only thing he could do was watch. This was the balcony seat to watching his best friend wither away, and he was strapped in for the ride.

Andrea cleared her throat and rasped. Silence fell and she looked away from him before looking back. "Bryan... I'm fine."

He was tired of those two words. _I'm fine. I'm alright. It's fine._ No, it wasn't. Didn't she see this? "You're not fine, Andrea. You're dying," his voice was soft, tired, and wary. "You're dying. You just don't get how fragile you are, Andrea."

"Fragile?" She asked as her eyebrow rose. She rocked forward on her cane a bit. "_Fragile_? I know I'm dying, Bryan. I know that. Fuck, that's the best thing that's going to happen to me in these next few weeks, Bry. Don't _you_ get it?" Andrea walked up to him and jabbed him in the shoulder. "I have the pleasure of waking up in the morning feeling like shit. I can hardly walk, I can hardly fend for myself, and it only gets worse. Dying is the only thing for me, and I've lost whatever hope you had. We both know that I'm going to die, I'm just the only one who's okay with it."

Bryan clenched and unclenched his fists. "Don't say that, Andie. Don't say it," he murmured. His voice faded as hers picked up. "I'd much rather it be me."

"I was born with my punch-out slip signed. And why? Would you rather be sick? Would you rather be holed up in your house? You already have a shit immune system, Bryan. Why would you want to add immunodeficiency? You have no idea how fast you'd go down. You think I'm bad? You have no fuckin' idea how hard it is to wake up every day knowing you're going to die. You'd much rather it be you? How would you feel knowing your body was fading, and feeling it decay? Don't you get it, Bryan? I wouldn't wish this on anybody, and I wouldn't want anybody else to take my place," she sniffled a bit and wiped at her eyes. Her breathing, which had quickened, settled again and he stood there, nudging the floor with the toe of his shoe.

He wiped at his cheek, unaware that a tear had slipped by. "Yes. Yes, I'd much rather it be me. Ever since I met you I wished it were me. I've been worried, Andrea, since you first told me," his breath grew shallow, half laden with unshed tears, half laden with a frustration that had been building up. He had never been afraid of hurting her feelings, perhaps that's why they got along so well, but he had had this on his shoulders for years. Secrets he had never shared, secrets he still decided to keep. "Every little flu, every bout with strep, every time you didn't show up for school, I got worried. I didn't want to lose my best friend, Andrea. And if I were in your place you know you'd be saying the exact same things. Do you have any idea how much I wish I could just take it away from you? Just so you could have a life without worry, with a husband and a yard full of kids," he whispered, not appreciating how this had turned out. Throughout this entire time, he had rarely cried. Now, it was taking everything he could not to break down in front of her. Another phrase danced on his tongue, but he bit it back.

"I've come to terms with what's going to happen to me, Bryan," she rested her hands on her hips for a moment, her breath quickened and slowed, and he ignored the slight twitch in her neck.

He tried to ignore the symptoms he was seeing. All they did was make everything more real. He wanted to take her away, away from the pain, from the disease, from everything. He wanted to spend the rest of time with her, and he felt stupid for not bringing it up earlier. Because, even if she did die, they would've had more time together. They were silent again, and he took the time to think about all the opportunities she'd never have, the life they wouldn't have together, the life she wouldn't have.

Bryan bit his lip and shook his head.

Andrea sighed and took his hand in hers. "It's not that I _want_ to die, Bryan. Not like that, at least. I just...I'm so tired of this. I know what's in store. I've talked to others, I've talked to my doctor...it's ...I just don't want to live like this anymore. I don't have much longer, Bryan."

"I know."

It came out more choked than he wanted it to, and he watched her with earnest as she rested her back on the wall. He thought about what Stu said, and he weighed his options. From the start, he promised her he would make these months the best of her life. He made a promise he intended to keep. He wanted to make her happy, and he thought he could do so. Bryan sucked in a breath.

"I don't want to fight anymore," she stated, and he could hear the defeat in her voice. She started to walk past him, but he put a hand on her shoulder and pivoted her around. Then, he kissed her, holding her body to his. He ignored how small she felt in his arms, and with his free hand, he tilted her chin. "Bryan," she whispered.

"I made a promise to you, Andrea. I promised you that I would do whatever it took to make you happy. I could make you happy, Andie. I could make you happy," he repeated. His eyes flickered to hers and his face fell. "But you don't want that." He slipped away from her and dragged a hand through his hair.

"It wouldn't be _fair_ to you, Bryan. What kind of relationship would it be anyway? We'd get together and then I'd die, how is that fair to you?" Her voice rose a few octaves and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's not fair that you're dying. Nothing's fair anymore, Andrea. Tell me, what do you want? I just didn't want you to die without you knowing how I felt. I just should've said something sooner." He paused and waited for her response. When she was silent for a while, he sighed and took another step back.

"Would it have mattered? How do I know you're being honest? How do I know you're not just fulfilling the wish of some dying gir—,"

"Andrea Mitchell, look me in the eye and say I'm lying. You think I'm trying to be protective of you just because you're sick? I don't want to lose you before it's absolutely time, you mean _something_ to me Andrea. I'm being honest, Andrea. And you feel the same way because if you hadn't, you would've said so by now."

Andrea took a breath in and shook her head. "How I feel about you doesn't matter, Bryan. It doesn't matter anymore. I...I l—," she shook her head again. "It's too late, Bryan. I'm not going to put you through it." She walked past him again, and this time he let her go. "You may not care, Bryan, but I do."

"Andrea," he began, but she cut him off.

"I'm tired, Bryan. I'll see you tomorrow," she replied, slowly and surely making her way down the hall. As he turned back around, he could hear the faint thud of her door falling shut.

* * *

**November 15****th****: **_**Dance in the snow**_

"This sucks," she muttered, curling up on the window seat with a mug of tea in her hands. She watched the snowflakes flutter in the air and melt on her windowpane. "It's snowing."

"Well aware," he replied, flipping the page in his book. He was on her bed paying attention to the book in his lap. Briefly, he lifted his eyes to her and a small smile graced his face. She hated winter, she hated the cold, and right now, she hated Nevada.

"Since when does it snow in freaking Nevada? There's nothing in this state besides Vegas and desert." Andrea pouted, glaring at each snowflake.

"There's Reno," he smirked, narrowly dodging the pillow she threw at him. He stood and excused himself, ducking into the hallway and into the bathroom. She stood and made her way over to the bed. Sitting atop the covers, she picked up the book he was reading and examined it. As she did so, a piece of folded paper slipped from the cover.

Carefully, she picked it up, and felt the weathered creases and the smudged lines. It felt like an extension of her, like a thousand memories shooting back to hit her in the face. It was the list, and she realized that it had been so long since she read it. Andrea smoothed out the wrinkles and unfolded the creases.

_Go to a concert_

She remembered singing and dancing on the sidewalk as he watched, amused. She remembered the summer, and how it made her feel. Time was slipping away, and she barely had her grip on it. There was still so many things unaccomplished, and it discouraged her.

Words were smudged and blotted from damage, possibly from tears, and the lower edge was tattered. The muddled brown of a coffee ring haloed a corner. The paper had faded and had begun to tear along the center crease. How could it have been so long ago? It was like a lifetime collected into a single peace of notebook paper. Gingerly, she traced the words and felt their energy. The back of her mind buzzed with the familiar whirl of a tattoo gun and the sweltering scent of sea salt. These were her memories, and she'd hold them close to her heart until the day it stopped beating.

Out of the corner of her eye, she found the unicycle Bryan had bought for her, tucked into the recesses of her closet. The tears swelled in her eyes. Over the past few months, she had hardly gotten a chance to ride it. In fact, the end of September was the last time she had touched it. She had only ever mastered one trick. Her eyes flickered back to the slow-falling snow.

_There's a first time for everything_, she remembered people telling her every time she broke out of a shell and did something new. The first snow of the year, the first flower of spring, the first man on the moon, and the first kiss of a first love. All her firsts were withering down to her lasts.

The _last_ snowfall, the _last _Christmas: last, last, last. As the days began to catch up with her, she thought more about what it meant to be the first and what it meant to be the last. Firsts were memorable, whether or not you wanted to remember them. Lasts were definitive; they were the end. In elementary school, first was the worst and second was the best. Some people saved the "best for last". She had expected it to hurt more than it did, to sit there and know that this would be the first of many lasts.

Strangely though, she almost felt at peace.

"Hey, Andie."

She looked up at Bryan and smiled. He leaned against the door frame, hand stroking his clean-shaven chin. "I shaved the Jesus Beard." Andrea nodded and wrapped her arms around his middle. She set her head against his chest. "Andrea?"

"You look good, Bry."

"Good," he smiled, "now follow me." He took her hand in his and led her to her front door.

"Bryan, what are we doing?" Andrea asked, her brow raised as he handed her her jacket. "Bry?"

"We're going outside," he replied, keeping his hand on the small of her back to steady her as she went first. "Just for a little bit though. I figured that a little bit couldn't hurt." Bryan's smile widened as hers did. He watched as she grinned and spun around in a circle, arms sweeping to the sides. Snow fell in drifts, landing through her hair and on her jacket.

She turned to him and laughed, and he found himself getting lost in the newfound happiness that gleamed in her eyes. It was a better day, far better than she had had recently. It became harder and harder to see true happiness in her eyes, and he was thankful every time he did. He loved hearing her laugh, seeing her grin and blush, full of life and joy.

"Do you wanna dance with me?" He asked, and she tilted her head to the side.

"Sure," Andrea smiled and took his hand. The other rested on his forearm. He guided them side to side, humming softly under his breath. Slowly, she put her head on his shoulder. "Bryan, thank you. I needed the fresh air."

"No problem. I'm glad I could help," he spun her around and steadied her as she nearly lost her footing.

They stayed outside for a while, until Andrea grew tired and needed rest. "Do you think we could go outside again later?" She asked as she lay on the couch. He smiled and nodded.

"Maybe." Bryan lied, bending down to kiss her forehead and ruffle her hair. "Maybe."

* * *

**November 29****th****: **_**Celebrate Thanksgiving**_

"You're sure you'll be alright?" Bryan inquired, his lip halfway drawn between his teeth. He stood, uneasy, at the door to her room as she lay in bed. She had urged him, pleaded with him, to get out and do something for himself, seeing as he had spent the last five months with her. "I don't want to leave you, Andrea. It's winter...what am I going to do in Nevada in the winter?"

"I don't know. Go to the gym, go to the movies, call up a friend... just do something, Bryan. Get your social life back," she answered, fiddling with the hem of the blanket. "Please, Bryan."

"Are you—,"

"I'm sure, Bryan. I'm not dead yet," she rolled into a coughing fit. When she came back up, she rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Bryan. I cough all the time, remember?"

"Yeah, but that sounded worse," his gaze hardened. "That's it, I'm not going." He finalized, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine, we need groceries though. You've been putting it off for a week," Andrea reminded, smirking inwardly as he realized her point. "Just get out of the house for a while, I'll stay right here. I'll be in the same place you left me. Just don't stop living just because I am."

"I hardly count going to the supermarket 'living'." He stated, shrugging on his coat. Bryan conceded, knowing she wouldn't stop pressing him, no matter how much he wanted to stay. Somehow, he couldn't shake the icy feeling that had settled into his stomach, the uneasy rolling feeling. But her eyes lit up when she heard he was leaving.

He knew she was glad he'd be going, not for his lack of presence, but for the lack of her presence on him. She felt responsible for him not going to work, or for him not hanging out with any of his friends. Somehow, even with her illness sinking further into her body, she still refused to blame him. She still refused to put her happiness ahead of his. She wouldn't be with him because she didn't want to break his heart, that she was too far gone and it would only make him sadder. She didn't want someone hawking over her, or spending all this time he had spent. While she had said she was grateful, that he believed, he also knew she thought she was somehow killing him.

"So, you're going?" She asked and he nodded.

"Yes, I'm going straight to the store and straight back. If you need me, call. Okay? The phone's on the table. I moved your books closer to the bed. And your cane is right there on the bedpost...and—"

"Bryan," she interrupted, "go."

"Be careful, okay Andrea?"

"Bryan, I'm practically bedridden. How much more careful can I get?"

/

Bryan sighed, balancing the two full bags in his arms as he tried to meander his way towards the door. He balanced a bag on his thigh and fiddled with the key. Another sigh passed his lips as he finally got the door to open. Making his way towards the stairs, he smiled to himself. "Andrea, I got your favor—Andrea!" Bryan cut himself off, arms releasing the grocery bags as he dove forward towards the steps. "Andrea!?"

She was lying there at the foot of the stairs with a small puddle of vomit and blood next to her face and a dusty haze over her skin. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, wheezing swoops. Bryan fell beside her and rested her head in his lap.

"Andrea?" He tried again and she still didn't respond. Hand shaking, he brushed hair from her face and called for an ambulance. The words left his lips numb.

_My best friend fell down the stairs._

_ She collapsed._

_ She's having trouble breathing._

The phone slid from his hand and clattered against the floor. Her name slipped his lips again in panic and confusion, and all the pain he had tried to subdue. It was November, and she still had another month left, didn't she?

Then why did she feel so dead in his arms? Why was she so cold?

"You can't leave me, Andrea. Not now. I'm not ready to say goodbye," he murmured as he laced his fingers with hers. "The ambulance will be here soon. You're going to be okay, Andrea. Please be okay." Bryan squeezed her hand and stroked her knuckles with his thumb. "I'm going to take care of you, Rea. I promise."

He shut his eyes and waited. Waited for the ambulance, waited for her to take another breath. He sat there, biting back all the tears budding in his eyes and the sobs from his throat. When the ambulance came, he waited, wallowing in worry as a paramedic loaded Andrea's motionless body onto a board to move her. And he followed her to the ambulance, stepping over broken groceries and everything else that didn't matter to him anymore.

What mattered the most to him was being put into the back of an ambulance.

What mattered most to him may be gone.

As he pulled himself into the back of the ambulance and retained his position beside her, he shut his eyes. Holding her hand again, he let out a careful breath. Every voice in his head was screaming that things would be alright, that Andrea would be alright. Yet, deep in his heart, he couldn't help but think that maybe this was the end.

And he realized he wouldn't be able to stop it.


	7. December

**So, here's the last chapter of Say Goodbye. Thank you to everybody who has reviewed, favorited, or subscribed to this story. Your reviews and feedback meant the world to me. I only own Andrea, and none of the lyrics used are mine. They belong to their respective owners.**

**Flashbacks are in italics**

**"Seize the Day" by Avenged Sevenfold, "Broken Wings" by Flyleaf, "Anthem of the Angels" by Breaking Benjamin**

**P.S. Angel, you're going to hate me.**

**To Infinity and Beyond,**

**Kiwi**

**P.S.S. Please leave a review**

* * *

**Say Goodbye**

** December**

* * *

**"I'd do anything for a smile, holding you 'til our time is done  
We both know the day will come, but I don't want to leave you"**

* * *

**December 2nd, 2012: **

** _Las Vegas, Nevada_**

"It's PCP, Bryan," Andrea mumbled, coughing into a handkerchief before relaxing again. "They can't treat it."

"Can't treat it, Andrea...?" Bryan shook his head in disbelief. "They can treat it, it's pneumonia, not the plague. You'll be—,"

"Don't cheat yourself of the truth any more than you're trying to cheat me. Neither of us deserve the patronage. I had a time limit, and I'm close to reaching it. Both of us knew this was going to happen," she stated simply, shrugging slightly as he took his seat beside her. He hung his head and sighed.

"This is my fault. I took you outside and I shouldn't have. This never would've happened had—,"

Andrea cut him off again and raised her hand to silence him. "No, it's not. The bacteria for PCP is airborne. It's everywhere. We breath it in every day, and I was vulnerable. You can't control science, Bryan. It's Darwinism at it's finest. The strong survive, the weak get attacked. I was weak, sickness attacked me. It's alright, Bryan." Andrea finished, drew in another breath and shut her eyes. "Bry, I'm really tired... the meds they're giving me and this whole...this whole thing...I'm going to rest, okay?"

He nodded, ignored the sinking feeling in his chest, and smiled. "I'll be here when you wake up." While she was asleep, her doctor came in.

"Mr. Danielson?"

"Yes?"

"Can I speak with you in the hall for a moment?"

"Of course," he stood and followed the middle-aged man into the hallway. He put his hands in his pockets and titled his head to the side a little. "What is it?"

Dr. Smith fiddled with his clipboard and turned a page. "Ms. Mitchell is in very critical condition. Right now, she's stable, but she is very, very, sick. We're doing all we can; giving her medication to ease the pain, but the prognosis is grim, Mr. Danielson. Her body is decaying, and we can't rebuild her. Her organs are going to start shutting down. I want you to be prepared," he said and Bryan nodded. "It won't be pretty."

"You know, I've been researching this disease since I was eighteen. I've read articles, I've watched documentaries... I know what's going to happen to her. I know it's not pretty. I made her a promise. Thank you, but I know what I'm getting into. There was a study done by—,"

"Mr. Danielson, she has a couple of weeks left. Right now, it doesn't matter what study was done, it won't help her.I'm sorry, Mr. Danielson," the doctor shrugged with an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid there's not much more we can do than make her comfortable."

"You're giving up on her," he simplified and shook his head.

"Any tests we do will only stress her system even more, and at this point, there's only so much she'll be able to withstand. I recommend keeping her here, where we can monitor her, and keep her as comfortable as we can. I'm sorry, Mr. Danielson. I'm sorry," he put a hand on Bryan's shoulder. "Truly, I am."

"I am too."

/

"You should try to eat something," Bryan chided, dipping his head towards the full tray before her.

"I wouldn't even feed this to my dog."

"Come on, Andie. The nurses are going to come in soon, and they'll tell you the same thing."

"I'm not hungry," she replied as she sunk down into the bed. He remained quiet and folded his hands in his lap. "Please don't tell me you're going to make me eat."

"Of course I won't," his hand found hers and he offered her a weak smile. "But you do need to eat."

"Fine," she took a few spoonfuls of food before reclining back. "Can you promise me something?"

"Depends on what you want me to promise."

"Don't let me die before the ball drops."

* * *

**December 15th, 2012: _See my friends before I die_**

**_"Thank you for being such a friend to me  
Oh, I pray a friend for life  
And have I ever told you how much you mean to me?  
Oh, you're everything to me"_**

* * *

It was December fifteenth, sixteen days before the New Year, and Andrea was beginning to show the signs that time was running out. Shivering, she pulled the thin covers around her and curled up as best she could given her current situation. She reached out her hand and relaxed a bit as Bryan took it. "It's alright, Andrea. I'm here," he whispered and brushed this thumb against her tattoo.

"Br-Bryan, when can we leave? We're going to be late for graduation."

His nose crinkled up in confusion. _Graduation_? "Um..., soon. We're just going to stay here for a little while, okay?" Bryan shut his eyes and squeezed her hand. "We'll leave soon."

"Delirium is common in people with her condition, Mr. Danielson. Some days will be better than others, today is one of those days," a nurse reminded as she flipped a page on her clipboard. "Are you sure she wants visitors? We don't want her to get upset."

"Listen, she has a bucket list. She wants to see her friends before she dies, and right now, I don't know if that's going to be tonight or three days from now. All I freakin' know is that there are people here whom she wants to see, and I'm going to be damned if I don't do this for her. You have to understand," Bryan began, stifling a irritated sigh as he pleaded his case. His eyes shifted to his watch. "Please." He was going back and forth with the main nurse for the night rounds. The Washington native turned to look at the three men – Matt, Phil, and Stu – standing behind him and frowned, murmured an; apology, and finally released his sigh.

"Mr. Danielson, visiting hours ended half an hour ago. The rest of the nursing staff is bending the rules by allowing _you_ to stay here this long. Now listen, I have to go grab myself a cup of coffee, otherwise I'm not going to be able to stay up all night to make sure you bunch don't get into anything," the nurse smirked and spun in the opposite direction. As she disappeared, Matt tapped Bryan's shoulder.

"Her mug was full, man."

"I know," Bryan replied and nodded towards Andrea's door. "She's in there. I-uh, I'm going to let you guys do your thing. Not really my place to invade on whatever you guys want to say to her." He plopped down into a chair beside Andrea's door. Phil and Stu occupied two of the other chairs, and Matt entered the room.

Andrea looked up from her book and smiled. "Matthew Cardona," she clicked her tongue. "I'm glad to see you." Matt nodded and returned the smile. He stood beside her bed and rested his hand atop of hers. "I-I'm really happy to see you, Matt."

He could tell by her voice that she was starting to get choked up, and he knew that if she started to cry, he surely would too. Prior to when her illness really struck, he would be her "wingman", as she had described. Lunch dates and push-up contests, among other things, were the basic perimeter of their friendship. They got along well, and somewhere along the line, they fell into a easy friendship. He trusted her, and she trusted him. Looking back on everything, he was beginning to realize that this was it. But Andrea was still Andrea to him, and so he approached her like he always had.

"Glad to see you too, Blondie," he greeted back, and once again, like old times, they sunk into a long conversation. They caught up on lost time, and he told her exactly what had been happening over the past few months. All the while, she smiled, laughed, and nodded. Time passed quickly, and an hour later, Matt checked his watch. "Hey, there's a couple other guys who want to see you. I have to go, I have a flight to catch. But, um... I'm going to miss you, Andrea," he concluded. "I wish I could stay longer, but you know how Vince gets."

And just like that, he could feel the swell of his throat and the heat build in his eyes. He swallowed and cleared his throat, hoping she hadn't heard him. When she didn't reply, he nodded to himself and went back towards the door. "Goodnight, Andrea."

"Ditto, Matt."

When Matt stepped back out into the hallway he wiped his eyes on his forearm and turned towards the others. "Phil," Matt stated, nodding toward the mentioned man. "I'm going to get going. I'll wait for you two in the car."

"It's fine, you can get the head start. We'll find a way to get there," Phil replied as he stood and gave the younger man a hug. Pulling back, he headed towards Andrea's room. He opened the door and slipped inside, instantly taken aback by what he saw. When he had seen her last, in September, she was slighter than before, but this was worse. He knew this would happen, all the side effects that came with the illness, but he hadn't expected to see it. She hardly looked like herself, she lacked the luster she usually radiated, and she was sunken in.

* * *

_**"Please don't go just yet**_  
_**Can you stay a moment please?**_  
_**We can dance together**_  
_**We can dance forever"**_

* * *

Her hospital gown hung from her body and a large blanket was draped over her small frame. Bringing a small, forced smile to his face, he spoke. "Well, you're looking dapper. Have I ever told you sterilized white is totally your color?" He cracked a sarcastic grin as her eyes lit up.

"Philly!"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "It's me. It's your Phil. I haven't seen you in forever." Phil hinged forward and hugged her, careful not to disturb the tubes feeding into her body. "How's it going?"

"I'm on lockdown, how do you think it's going?" She replied, still smiling as she quickly pulled away to cough into her shoulder. "I-I am so sorry."

"Don't be," Phil murmured and put a hand on her knee. "I'm glad I got to see you again. September wouldn't have been good enough."

"You wouldn't have had to see me like this."

"I don't care what you look like, Andrea. I'm just glad I could see you. Don't worry," he chuckled, "I'm not going into one of those dwindling sappy lectures about how much I'm going to miss you, or how much you mean to me. You do though, mean a lot to me, and I will miss you, but neither of us are into the sappy stuff." Phil paused, eyes drifting to the tubes. "Are you in any pain?"

"No. Morphine," she nodded to one of the tubes.

"Good. You're not suffering. That's...that's good." He blinked, and she saw the glimmer in his eye. "I'm glad that it doesn't hurt." He kissed her forehead. "I still can't say it, Andrea. You know I can't."

"Then don't," she stated, resting her head back. Silently, he rested his head on her shoulder and listened as she talked to him. "Hand me your wallet, please," she asked, and he complied. "I want to give you something, Phil," she began as she reached over towards the bedside drawer. She pulled out an image, face-down, and slid it into his wallet. "We were in Illinois, it was September, and Bry and I were about to go on our big road trip. We stopped by to see you, because I was afraid I'd never get to see you again. Y-you swept me into your arms and congratulated me on joining the Tattoo Club."

"I remember," he cleared his throat.

"And I asked if I could take a picture, so I did. Well," she placed the wallet back in his hand, "now you have one of my memories."

He opened his wallet and smiled, the tears swelled in his eyes and he shut them. They were side by side, with one of his arms draped over her shoulders. Her head rested by his chest and smiled lit both their faces. "Thank you, Andrea."

"No problem, Punkert."

He sat back up and placed a hand on her shoulder. Giving it a slight squeeze, he stood up and smiled. She returned the gesture, knowing exactly what he meant. He had done it before, on September 1st, 2012; when she had come to him to say goodbye. Now, it resounded in the air without the need for words. It was his way of saying goodbye so he wouldn't have to say it. It was given fact that this was the last time he'd see her. He could walk away with the goodbye off his chest and her memory in his heart and pocket.

* * *

When Stu entered, he pulled an armchair close to her bedside and settled in it. "Hey, love, I brought you something," he made the motion of handing the book to her, but she shook her head.

"Could you read it to me?"

Stu cleared his throat, but conceded. In his lap lay a book and he read the cover aloud before opening it. "_Goldilocks and the Three Bears_."

"It's my favorite," Andrea smiled slightly, rolling on to her side to face him. Stu nodded, taking her hand and running his thumb along her knuckles. "When I was little, my biological mother gave me up for adoption, and when my mom adopted me, she read me this story. It was the first night in a new city, in a new house, and she and my dad stayed up to read me this story."

"I know, sweetheart." He gave her a warm smile as he started to read. She lied there and listened to the smoothness of his voice that brought her into the story. "Once upon a time there was a little girl named Goldilocks. One day she took a walk through the forest and came upon a big house. She knocked, and she knocked, but no one answered. So, Goldilocks let herself in."

"She walked into the kitchen where three bowls of porridge sat on the kitchen table. Goldilocks was hungry, so she tasted some of the porridge from the first bowl. 'This porridge is too hot', she said," Stu continued, smiling briefly as Andrea giggled at his Goldilocks voice. Stu started up again, looking up here and there to see if she was still following him. She hung on to every word as he spoke it, and listened to the hum of his voice.

"Goldilocks was very tired, so she went upstairs. She found a bedroom with three beds. She lay down on the first bed, but it was too hard. Then, she tried the second bed, but it was too hard. At last, she tried the third bed, and it was just right. As she was sleeping, the three bears returned home. 'Somebody has been eating my porridge', growled Papa Bear," Stu's voice rose. "'Somebody has been eating my porridge,' said Mama Bear. 'Somebody has been eating my porridge, and it's all gone!' cried the Baby Bear."

He felt the grip on his hand tighten, and his eyes met hers. His eyes stung, and he blinked before clearing his throat and turning his gaze back to the book. "'Somebody's been sittin' in my chair,' yelled Papa Bear. 'And somebody's been sitting in _my_ chair,' said Mama Bear. 'Somebody's been sitting in my chair, and broke it all to pieces,' cried Baby Bear. The Bears decided to look around more. They walked up the stairs, and when they got to the bedroom, Papa Bear growled," Stu growled as well, matching his voice with each character as he had spoken.

"'Somebody's been sleeping in my bead,' Papa Bear yelled. 'Somebody's been sleeping in my bed,' cried Mama Bear. 'Somebody's been sleeping in my bed, and she's still here!' said Baby Bear. Just then, Goldilocks woke up and saw the three bears," he paused, and tried to ease the shakiness he felt creeping into his voice. "And she cried out for help before jumping out of the bed and running out of the room. She ran down the stars, an' she ran out of the house an' into the forest. She ran all the way back home, and she never...," Stu bit the inside of his lip for a moment, "she never returned to the house of the three bears. The end." He shut the book and put it on the floor beside him. His hand was shaking, trembling, as he put it over where his other hand joined Andrea's. "There we go, Goldilocks. Safe and sound at home." Stu coughed again to clear his throat and to swallow back the lump that was rising. He watched her in silence for a few minutes, watched the steady rise and fall of her chest.

"Thank you, Stu. Stu?"

"Yes, love?"

"If it isn't too much to ask—,"

"It's never too much to ask," he interrupted before quieting down again.

"I know Bry's gonna shut down. Wh-when I...when I go. C-could you just...just make sure he's alright now and then. You don't have...to babysit him," she paused to catch her breath. "But I just want to make sure he's okay."

"He'll be alright, love. He'll have us, even if he doesn't want us around," he assured her, pressed a kiss to her temple, and kissed the the back of her hand.

"Thank you, Papa Bear."

"Anything for you, Goldilocks."

* * *

**December 31st, 2012: _See the ball drop_**

"Mr. Danielson, you'll have to understand that we don't know how much longer she can hang on for," a doctor spoke, and Andrea could hear the conversation through the door. "Her systems are failing, and she doesn't have much longer."

"Give me a rough estimate," Bryan demanded, and Andrea heard the doctor sigh.

"She'll be lucky to see the new year."

She could imagine Bryan's face, the dismay, the hurt he'd quickly try to cover up. Then she imagined the way he'd nod respectfully and thank the doctors for everything they did do.

"Thank you, Doc."

"You have a compromised immune system, Mr. Danielson. I'd suggest wearing a mask, so you don't wind up being our next patient."

And then Bryan walked into the room, the minty green mask covering the lower half of his face. He shrugged nonchalantly. "They told me I had to wear it." She could still she his smile as he sat down in the chair beside her. "It's nine, do you want me to turn off the lights?"

"I...I'm staying...up," she scrambled for the words as her breathing became stubborn and mangled. He only nodded and held up a hand to quiet her.

"You want to see the ball drop," he substituted, and she nodded. The corner of his lip twitched into a smile as he took a Kleenex and patted away the small spittle at the corner of her mouth. "We'll stay up for that, okay?"

Andrea nodded again in response, wheezing as she breathed. With a small struggle, she inched herself closer to the railing of the bed and patted the spot beside her. "Please?" Bryan complied and rested behind her, glancing through the window at the nurse. She only nodded once. "These...these last six months, Bryan..."

"Shhh," he whispered, "you don't have to say anything, Andie."

"They've been the best of my life. All the things we did together...all that time. I...I wouldn't have rather...rather spent it with anyone else."

Bryan hid his face in her thin hair and nodded. "Same here, Andie."

"You're my best friend, Bryan."

* * *

**11:30 Monday, December 31st, 2012**

* * *

**"So close your eyes but don't dream too deep**  
**And please pass me some memories**  
**And when I fall you're underneath**  
**A thousand broken hearts**  
**Carried by a thousand broken wings**  
**A thousand broken wings"**

* * *

They went to Prom together. They had promised that, if neither of them had a date, they'd go with each other.

_He sat on the sofa in the living room, gaze fixated on the stairs. He hadn't moved since he'd arrived, except to wipe his sweaty palms on the knees of his slacks. It was 7:30, and the dance started in half an hour, but he was still waiting on her. Somehow, he knew she'd make them late, because she was nearly always late for everything. _

_ Andrea came down the stairs at 7:45, and he swore that he would never see a woman as beautiful as she was that night. His lips curved into an adoring smile, and his eyes widened as she stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She tugged her lip between her teeth and twirled in her dress. "Is it okay?"_

_ "I-I, uh...it's perfect, Andie," he offered her his arm and she looped hers with it. _

_ "You look quite dapper yourself, Mr. Danielson."_

_ "Shall we," he said, smiling wider as they aimed for the door. They were pulled back by her parents, and endured the minutes of teasing and pictures before finally getting on their way. The dance was nice, but he only really remembered her, and the way she looked that evening. He remembered holding her close for the slow dances, and the sweet kiss she placed on his cheek at the end of the night. At that moment, it had been the best night of his life._

_ It was ten o'clock, and there was still an hour and a half worth of the dance left, excluding the after party, when Andrea leaned in close to him. "Wanna get out of here?" When he nodded, she took his hand and led him outside and to the beach nearby. She held her shoes in one hand and the other rest at her side. "Thank you, Bryan, for taking me to Prom."_

_ "I promised you, didn't I?" He smiled at her. "So, where are we going, anyway?"_

_ She didn't say anything, just continued walking until they reached the dock. Then, she walked out halfway before lying down. Confused, he followed suit. Again, he asked._

_ "Andrea, what are we doing?"_

_ "We're watching the stars."_

_ He brought her home late that night, far later than he had anticipated. They stood on her doorstep, and said their goodnights. As he was about to walk away, she stopped him. And then she kissed him, softly, chaste, but fully on the lips. "Goodnight, Bryann,"_

_ And it was the best night of his life._

Bryan choked back the rising lump in his throat as memories flickered in his mind. Some lingered longer than others, but still his mind was dwelling.

**_July 15__th__, 2102: Attend a concert_**

_"Oh, carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more!" Andrea sang, twirling herself around a light pole as her voice carried on through the night. He laughed, standing with his hands in his jacket pockets. Bryan smiled as she skipped away from him, singing more of the song._

_ "If some guy tries to kidnap you, I'm not coming after you!" Bryan shouted, grinning as she stuck her tongue out at him. Then, she returned and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close to her. "Thank you, Bryan, for the tickets." His hands settled on her waist. Pulling away, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Bryan nodded as he lead her to a cafe, opening the door for her. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "I always knew you were so chivalrous, Bry," Andrea winked, sliding into a booth in the corner. After they had gotten their drinks, she spoke up again. "Seriously, Bry... thank you. This means a lot to me, I don't even know if I can describe it." She held her cup of hot chocolate, taking a sip before pushing her hair back from her face. It fell forward again, vicious strawberry blonde curls framing her face. "I'm starting to think you're the best thing in my life right now." Twirling the spoon around, she watched as the whipped cream swirled and broke down. Peering back up at him, the corners of her lips turned upward._

_ Bryan didn't say anything, just gave a small shrug. Raising his mug, he grinned. "Cheers."_

_ "To?"_

_ He shrugged again. "To the best six months of our lives." Andrea laughed, nodding in agreement as she clinked her mug with his._

_ "Cheers."_

_ **July 23rd, 2012: Stargaze in the forest**_

_"Alright, so show me this list," Bryan nudged his friend with his shoulder as she was roasting a marshmallow. Andrea poked at the gooey mass before sandwiching it between two graham crackers and a peanut butter cup. Plucking it out of her pocket, she handed it to him and glanced over his shoulder as he read it. He murmured a few of them under his breath. "Go camping, well... we can check that one off." Bryan grabbed a pen as drew a line through the words. "And carve something into a tree...oh, and the concert..." He trailed off, a question forming on his lips as he showed her the list. "Why is one of them covered with a slip of paper."_

_"Uh," she avoided his gaze before giving him a reassuring smile. "Just a secret. It's the last thing I need to do." Andrea sighed in content, slightly sad that they had to leave the following morning. She eyed him as he stood, retreating into the tent for a minutes before coming back out with a blanket under his arm. Shifting a few things around, he spread the blanket and laid down, eyes trained towards the night sky._

_"You know, it's easier to cross things off a bucket list when you actually do them," Bryan commented, patting the spot beside him. "Stargazing in a forest." She chuckled, putting the fire out as she passed by it, coming to a stop on the blanket. Laying beside him, her corner of her mouth twitched upward. Stars dappled the sky, sparkling with their own resounding light. She knew though, that chances are that each and every one of the stars she saw that night were dead, their beauty not reaching the earth until it was far too late._

_"Bry?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"You know most of these stars are dead, right?" She asked, and he paused in contemplation._

_"They're still beautiful, though." His voice was hard, as if he had taken it a different way. They were silent for a few more moments, a thought burning in the back of her mind. Questions on what would happen after she died, and how her friends and family would cope lingered in her mind and she cleared her throat._

_"Bryan?" He only nodded, signifying that she had his attention. "When I die, Bryan... do you think I'll be cremated, or buried?"_

_"God, Andie," he wiped his face with a frown as she shrugged. "I don't know, Andrea. I'm not ready to think about you dying." She left it at that, and as she returned her gaze to the sky, his fell onto her. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that he just didn't want her to leave. Not that it came as a surprise, but what she had said at the cafe struck him. She had told him that he was the best thing in her life right now. And it went the same for him too. How could he lose such a glow?_

_Six months was a decent chunk of time, but it just didn't feel like enough. Pushing the thoughts to the far recesses of his mind, he forced himself to focus on the here and now, on his best friend lying on a blanket beside him, watching the stars in the sky dazzle and shine with their own brilliance. Days like these he could spend forever in._

_Andrea leaned in closer to him, her voice a whisper in his ear. "That one, up there," she pointed and he followed, "is Serpens." She tilted her head to the side, chewing on her lip and muttering that they had missed Scorpius. Little things, like her pointing out stars in the sky and drawing pictures with their bodies, like her singing random bursts of random songs, like the way she could make him laugh so easily; little things like that where what stood most prominent in his mind. Little things like that were what he was going to miss the most._

_No, he wasn't ready to think about her dying._

_He didn't think he'd ever be ready_

Memory after memory flashed through his head. Her tattoo, the unicycle, riding the roller coaster, and the road trip. He remembered it all, a lifetime of memories concluded in six months of new ones. Most of all, he remembered the first day he knew.

**July 1****st****, 2012**

_ He had been waiting there for nearly an hour. As always, he accompanied her to her doctor's appointments, for her to receive more news. However, the appointments typically never lasted more than twenty minutes, and he was beginning to get anxious. A month ago, the treatments had stopped working. A lengthy doctor's appointment meant bad news.  
_

_Andrea was going to die young , regardless of how many times he told himself she'd be fine for at least another year. Another year was the hope he'd been holding onto for the past fourteen years. Just one more year. Just one more year. He figured he'd run out of borrowed time.  
_

_Bryan occupied his wait by reading the stale, outdated magazines on the coffee table, and by twiddling his thumbs. Then, the door opened and she stepped out. Instantly, he faced her and stood. He could see the answer in her eyes. She rested a hand on his forearm.  
_

_"I'm okay, Bryan," she smiled weakly and ran a shaky hand through her hair._

_She murmured something, and he pulled her into his chest. Rocking her back and forth, he whispered into her ear. _

_ "How long?"_

_Then she said the two words that made his heart stop._

_"Six months."_

Bryan blinked and counted back in his head. July was six, August was five, September was four, October was three, November was two, and December was one. Six months had passed, and it had hardly felt like anything. He cleared his throat and wiped his eye with the pad of his thumb. Encircling a hand around her waist, he found her hand with his. "Andie? You-you've been hanging on, Andie. You've been hanging on for so long I don't know how you did it. You're so strong, Andie. I'm sorry, so so sorry I didn't say anything earlier, and that I didn't make the most of our time together. I'm an idiot, 'Rea. You know I am. Through all the treatments, and all the pain, you're still here. You've been hanging on since you were born, and it's okay to let go now. Alright? You don't have to be in pain anymore, you don't have to fight this, baby girl. I'll be okay, I promise. I'm not mad, Andrea. I won't be mad if you let go." With one hand, he smoothed her hair back and clenched his jaw. "I love you, Andrea."

"I love you too, Bryan.

**11:50 P.M. December 31****st****, 2012**

"B-Bryan... co-could you hand me my list?" Andrea asked, her speech broken and her breathing ragged and wet. He nodded and dug into his pocket for the weathered piece of paper. He slipped it into her hand and buried his face in her shoulder as she crossed something off the list. The feel of her body in his arms was different, and it scared him. Her body shook, her breath quickened, and he could sense the fear in her.

She was scared and he realized he was too. "It'll be okay, Andie. I promise, it'll be okay. You'll be okay soon, you can let go, sweetie. Remember that. You can let go."  
"Br-Bryan...promise you'll catch me?" She asked, and he remembered.  
"Andie, I'll always catch you," he murmured, holding her close to him. The doctors had said that this would happen, that her hearing would suffer, that her sight would go. And if she couldn't hear him or see him, he'd make sure she knew he was there. Bryan wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. "I'm here, you know that, right?"  
He could feel her nod. Then, she stopped fussing, her breath evened out, and her coughing stopped. Bryan shut his eyes and pulled her closer to his chest. Slowly, her back rose and fell with each uneven breath. His borrowed time was running out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the clock on the wall tick forward. Every minute, every second, he counted it back in his head. A tear slipped from his eye as it struck midnight. He heard her utter two words as the T.V. monitor displayed the ball dropping.

**January 1****st****, 2013: **_**Say Goodbye**_

* * *

**I keep holding onto you **  
**But I can't bring you back to life **  
**Sing the anthem of the angels **  
******And say the last goodbye**


End file.
